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FEANCE AND E 




NORTH AMERICA. 



A SERIES OF HISTORICAL NARRATIVES. 



FRANCIS PARKMAN, 



AUTHOR OF " HISTORY OF THE CONSPIRACY QF POXTIAC," " PRAIRIE A^fD 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN LIFE." ETC. 



PART FIRST 



BOSTON: 

LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY 

1874. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1S65, by 

Francis Parkman, 

Id the Clerk's Office of the District Court of tlie District of Massachusetts. 



Presswork by John Wilson and Son. 



I- 



PIONEERS OF FRANCE 



NEW WORLD. 



\ 



A 



FRANCIS PARKMAN, 

AUTHOR OF "history OF THE CONSPIRACY OF PONTIAC," "PKAIP.IE ANT) 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN LIFE," ETC. 




BOSTON: 
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY 

1874. 



V 1030 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 

Francis Parkman, 

ill the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



jj|f Tnaifbr 



i 






TO THE MEMORY 

OF 

THEODOEE PAEKMAN, EGBERT GOULD SHAW, ^^'j 
AND HENRY WARE HALL, 

SLAIN IN BATTLE, 
THIS VOLTOIE IS DEDICATED BY THEIR KINSMAN, 

THE AUTHOR 



INTRODUCTION. 



The springs of American civilization, unlike those 
of the elder world, lie revealed in the clear liaht of 
History. In appearance, they are feeble ; in reality, 
copious and full of force. Acting at the sources of 
life, instruments otherwise weak become mighty for 
good and evil, and men, lost elsewhere in the crowd, 
stand forth as agents of Destiny. In their toils, their 
sufferings, their conflicts, momentous questions were at 
stake, and issues vital to the future world, — the prev- 
alence of races, the triumph of principles, health or 
disease, a blessing or a curse. On the obscure strife 
where men died by tens or by scores hung questions 
of as deep import for posterity as on those miglity con- 
tests of national adolescence where carnage is reckoned 
by thousands. It is not the writer's purpose, however, 
to enter upon subjects which have already been thor- 
oughly investigated and developed, but to restrict him- 
self to those where new facts may be exhibited, or fiicts 
already known may be placed in a more clear and just 
light. 

The subject to which the earlier narratives of the 
proposed series will be devoted is that of " France in 



vlii INTRODUCTION. 

the New World," — the attempt of Feudah'sm, Mon- 
archy, and Rome to master a continent where, at 
this hour, half a million of bayonets are vindicating 
the ascendency of a regulated freedom ; — Feudalism 
still strong in life, though enveloped and .overborne by 
new - born Centralization ; Monarchy in the flush of 
triumphant power ; Rome, nerved by disaster, spring- 
ing with renewed vitality from ashes and corruption, 
and ranging the earth to reconquer abroad what she 
had lost at home. These banded powers, pushing into 
the wilderness their indomitable soldiers and devoted 
priests, unveiled the secrets of the barbarous continent, 
pierced the forests, traced and mapped out the streams, 
planted their emblems, built their forts, and claimed all 
as their own. New France was all head. Under 
King, Noble, and Jesuit, the lank, lean body would not 
thrive. Even Commerce wore the sword, decked itself 
with badges of nobility, aspired to forest seigniories 
and hordes of savage retainers. 

Along the borders of the sea, an adverse power was 
strengthening and widening with slow, but steadfast 
growth, full of blood and muscle, — a body without a 
head. Each had its strength, each its weakness, each 
its own modes of vigorous life : but the one was fruit- 
ful, the other barren ; the one instinct with hope, the 
other darkening with shadows of despair. 

By name, local position, and character, one of these 
communities of freemen stands forth as the most con- 
spicuous representative of this antagonism ; — Liberty 
and Absolutism, New England and New France. The 



INTRODUCTION. 



IX 



one was the offspring of a triumphant government ; 
the other, of an oppressed and fugitive people : the one, 
an unflinching champion of tlie Roman Catholic reac- 
tion ; the other, a vanguard of the Reform. Each fol- 
hivved its natural laws of growth, and each came to its 
natural result. Vitalized by the principles of its foun- 
dation, tlie Puritan commonwealth grew apace. New 
England was preeminently the land of material prog- 
ress. Here the prize was within every man's reach ; 
patient industry need never doubt its reward ; nay, in 
defiance of the four Gospels, assiduity in pursuit of 
gain was promoted to tlie rank of a duty, and thrift 
and godliness were linked in equivocal wedlock. Polit- 
ically, she was free-; socially, she suffered from that 
subtile and searching oppression which the dominant 
opinion of a free community may exercise over the 
members who compose it. As a whole, she grew upon 
the gaze of the world, a signal example of expansive 
energy ; but she has not been fruitful in those salient 
and striking forms of character which often give a 
dramatic life to the annals of nations far less pros- 
perous. 

We turn to New France, and all is reversed. Here 
was a bold attempt to crush under the exactions of a 
grasping hierarchy, to stifle under the curbs and trap- 
pings of a feudal monarchy, a people compassed by 
influences of the wildest freedom, — whose schools were 
the forest and the sea, whose trade was an armed barter 
with savages, and whose daily life a lesson of lawless 
independence. But this fierce spirit had its vent. The 



^ INTliODUCTION. 

Story of New France is, from the first, a story of war . 
of war — for so her founders believed — with the adver- 
sary of mankind himself; war with savage tribes and 
potent forest-commonwealths ; war with the encroaching 
powers of Heresy and of England. Her brave, unthink- 
ing peojjle were stamped with the soldier's virtues and 
the soldier's faults ; and in their leaders were displayed, 
on a giand and novel stage, the energies, aspirations, 
and passions which belong to hopes vast and vague, 
ill-restricted powers, and stations of command. 

The growth of New England was a result of the 
aggregate efforts of a busy multitude, each in his nar- 
row circle toiling for himself, to gather competence or 
wealth. The expansion of New France was the achieve- 
ment of a gigantic ambition striving to grasp a conti- 
nent. It was a vain attempt. Long and valiantly her 
chiefs upheld their cause, leading to battle a vassal pop- 
ulation, warlike as themselves. Borne down by num- 
bers from without, wasted by corruption from within, 
New France fell at last ; and out of her fc\ll grew revo- 
lutions whose influence, to this hour, is felt through 
every nation of the civilized world. 

The French dominion is a memory of the past; 
and, when we evoke its departed shades, they rise upon 
us from their sfraves in strauije romantic cuise. Aoain 
their ghostly camp-fires seem to burn, and "the fitful light 
is cast around on lord and vassal and black - robed 
priest, mingled with wild forms of savage warriors, 
knit in close fellowship on the same stern errand. A 
boundless vision grows upon us : an untamed conti- 



INTRODUCTION. y^\ 

nent ; vast wastes of forest verdure ; mountains silent 
in primeval sleep ; river, lake, and glimmering- pool ; 
wilJeiness oceans mingling with the sky. Such was 
the domain which France conquered for Civilization, 
Plumed helmets gleamed in the shade of its forests, 
priestly vestments in its dens and fastnesses of ancient 
harharism. Men steeped in antique learning, pale a ith 
the close breatli of the cloister, here spent the noon and 
evening of their lives, ruled savage hordes with a mild, 
parental sway, and stood serene before the direst shapes 
of death. jMen of courtly nurture, heirs to the polish 
of a far-reaching ancestry, here, with their dauntless 
hardihood, put to shame the boldest sons of toil. 

This memorable, but half- forgotten chapter in the 
book of human life can be rightly read only by lights 
nmnerous and widely scattered. The earlier period of 
New France was very prolific in a class of publications, 
which are often of much historic value, but of which 
many are exceedingly rare. The writer, however, has 
at length gained access to them all. Of the unpub- 
lished records of the colonies, the archives of France are 
of course the grand deposit ; but many documents of 
im])ortant bearing on the subject are to be found scat- 
tered iu public and private libraries, chiefly in France 
and Canada. The task of collection has proved abun- 
dantly irksome and laborious. It has, however, been 
greatly lightened by the action of the governments of 
New York, Massachusetts, and Canada, in collecting 
frcun Europe copies of documents having more or less 
relation to their own history. It has been greatly light- 



Xll 



INTRODUCTION. 



ened, too, by a most kind coo])eration, for whicli the 
writer owes obligations too many for recognition at 
present, but of which he trusts to make fitting acknowl- 
edgment hereafter. Yet he cannot forbear to mention 
the name of Mr, John Gilmary Shea, of New York, 
to whose labors this department of American history 
has been so deeply indebted, and that of the Hon. 
Henry Black, of Quebec. Nor can he refrain from 
expressing his obligation to the skilful and friendly 
criticism of Mr. Charles Folsom. 

In this, and still more must it be the case in suc- 
ceeding volumes, the amount of reading applied to their 
composition is far greater than the citations represent, 
much of it being of a collateral and illustrative nature. 
This was essential to a plan whose aim it was, while 
scrupulously and rigorously adhering to the truth of 
facts, to animate them with the life of the past, and, so 
far as might be, clothe the skeleton with flesh. If at 
times it may seem that range has been allowed to fancy, 
it is so in appearance only ; since the minutest details 
of narrative or description rest on authentic documents 
or on personal observation. 

Faithfulness to the truth of historv involves far more 
than a research, however patient and scrupulous, into 
special facts. Such facts may be detailed with the 
most minute exactness, and yet the narrative, taken 
as a whole, may be unmeaning or untrue. The nar 
rator must seek to imbue himself with the life and 
spirit of the time. He must study events in their 
bearings near and remote ; in the character, habits, and 



INTRODUCTION. xiii 

manners of those wlio took part in thenn. He must 
himself be, as it were, a sharer or a spectator of the 
action he describes. 

With respect to that special research, which, if in- 
adequate, is still in the most emphatic sense indispen- 
sable, it has been the writer's aim to exhaust the exist- 
ing material of every subject treated. While it would 
be folly to claim success in such an attempt, he has 
reason to hope, that, so far at least as relates to the 
present volume, nothing- of much importance has es- 
caped him. With respect to the general prepaiation 
just alluded to, he has long been too fond of his theme 
to neglect any means within his reach of making his 
conception of it distinct and true. 

To those who have aided him with information and 
documents, the extreme slowness in the progress of the 
work will naturally have caused surprise. This slow- 
ness was unavoidable. During the past eighteen years, 
the state of his health has exacted throughout an ex- 
treme caution in regard to mental application, reduc- 
ing it at best within narrow and precarious limits, and 
often precluding it. Indeed, for two periods, each of 
several years, any attempt at bookish occupation would 
have been merely suicidal. A condition of sight aris- 
ing from kindred sources has also retarded the work, 
since it has never permitted reading or writing contin- 
uously for much more than five minutes, and often has 
not permitted them at all. A previous work. The 
Conspiracy of Pontiac, was written in similar cir- 
cumstances. 

b 



XIV 



INTRODUCTION. 



Tlje writer means, if jiossible, to carry tlie present 
design to its completion. Such a completion, however, 
will by no means be essential as regards the individ- 
ual volumes of the series, since each will form a sepa- 
rate and independent work. The ])resent volume, it 
will be seen, contains two distinct and completed narra- 
tives. Some progress has been made in others. 

Boston, January 1, 1865. 



CONTENTS. 



HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA. 

rAGB 

Prefatory Note 1 

CHAPTER I. 

1512-1561. 

EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. 

Spanish Voyagers. — TJomance and Avarice. — Ponce de Leon.— 
The Fountain of Youth and tlie River Jordan. — Discovery of 
Florida. — Garay. — Ayllon. — Panipliilo de Narvaez. — His Fate. 
— Hernando de Soto. — His Enterprise. — His Adventures. — His 
Death. — Succeeding Voyagers. — SpanisJi Claim to Florida. — 
English and French Claim. — Spanish Jealousy of France 5 

CHAPTER II. 

1550-1558. 

VILLEGAGNON. 

Spain in tlie Sixteentli Century. — France. — The Huguenots. — 
The Court. — Caspar de Coligny. — Priests and Monks. — Nicholas 
Durand de Villegngnon. — His Exploits. — His Cliaracter. — His 
Scheme of a Protestant Colony. — Huguenots at Rio Janeiro. — 
Despotism of Viitegagnon. — Villegagnon and the Ministers. — 
Polemics. — The Ministers expelled. — Their Sufferings. — Ruin 
of th3 Colony 16 

CHAPTER III. 

15G2, 1563. 

JEAN RIBAUT. 

A. Second Huguenot Colony. — Coligny, his Position. — The Hugue- 
not Party, its Motley Character. — Tlie Puritans of Massachu- 
setts. — Ribaut sails for Florida. — The River of May. — Hopes. — 



Xvi CONTENTS. 

FACB 

Illusions. — The Sea Islands. — Port Royal. — Cliarlesfort. — Albert 
and Ills Colony. — Frolic. — Aihenture. — Ini[)roviclence. — 
Famine. — Mutiny. — Barre' tnkes Command. — A Brigantine built. 

— Florida abandoned. — Tempest. — Desperation. — Cannibalism 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

15B4. 

LAUDONNIERE. 

riie New Colony. — Rene de Laudonniere. — The Peace of Amboise. 

— Satouriona. — The Promised Land. — Miraculous Longevity. — 
Fort Caroline. — Native Tribes. — Ottign}' explores the St. John's. 

— River Scenery. — The Tliimngoa. — Conflicting Alliances. — 
Indian War. — Diplomacy of Laudonniere. — Vasseur's Expedition. 

— Battle and Victory 4^ 

CHAPTER V. 

1564, 1505. 

CONSPIRACY. 

Discontent. — Plot of Roquette. — Piratical Excursion. — Sedition. — 
Illness \)i Laudonniere. — The Commandant put in Irons. — Plan 
of the Mutineers. — Buccaneering. — Disaster and Repjentance. — 
The Ringleaders hanged. — Order restored 59 

CHAPTER VL 

1564, 1565. 

FAMINE. — WAR. SUCCOR. 

La Roche Ferriere. — Pierre Gamble. — The King of Calos. — Ro- 
mantic Tales. — Ottigny's Expedition. — Starvation. — Eflbrts to 
.escape from Florida. — Indians unfricndlj'. — Seizure of Outina. — 
Attempts to extort Ransom. — Ambuscade. — Battle. — Desperation 
of the French. — Sir John Hawkins relieves them. — Ribaut brings 
Reinforcements. — Advent of the Spaniards 68 

CHAPTER VIL 

1565. 

MENENDEZ. 

Spain. — Pedro Menendez de Avilc's. — His Boyhood. — His Early 
Career. — His Petition to the King. — Commissioned to conquer 



:!ONTENTS. 



XVll 



FAGB 

Florida. — His Powers. — His Designs. — A New Crusaie. — 
Sailing of tlie Spanisli Fleet. — A Storm. — Porto Rico. — Energy 
of JNIenendez. — He readies Florida. — AttaclvS Ribaut's Ships. — 
Founds St. Augustine. — Alarm of tlie French. — Bold Decision 
of Ribaut. — Defenceless Condition of Fort Caroline. — Ribaut 
thwarted. — Tempest. — JMenendez marches on the French Fort. — 
His Desperate Position. — The Fort taken. — Tlie Massacre. — 
The Fugitives 85 

CHAPTER VIII. 

1565 

MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. 

Menendez returns lo St. Augustine. — Tidings of the French. — 
Ribaut shipwrecked. — The March of Menendez. — He discovers 
the French. — Interviews. — Hopes of Mercy. — Surrender of the 
French. — Massacre. — Return to St. Augustine. — Tidings of 
Ribaut's Party. — His Interview with Menendez. — Deceived and 
betrayed. — Murdered. — Another Massacre. — French Accounts. 

— Schemes of. the Spaniards. — Survivors of the Carnage. — In- 
difference of the French Court 119 

CHAPTER IX. 
1567-1574. 

DO.MINIQnE DE GOURGUES. 

His Past Life. — His Hatred of Spaniards. — Resolves on Vengeance. 

— His Band of Adventurers. — His Plan divulged. — His Speech. — 
Enthusiasm of his Followers. — Condition of the Spaniards. — 
Arrival of Gourgues. — Interviews with Indians. — The Span- 
iards attacked. — The First Fort carried. — Another Victory. 

— The Final Triumph. — The Prisoners hanged. — The Forts 
destroj'cd. — ijequel of Gourgues's Career. — Menendez. — His 
Death 140 



Xviii CONTENTS. 

CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 

PACK 

Prefatory Note 165 

CHAPTER 1. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

1488-1-543. 

EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE IN NORTH AaiERICA. 

Traditions of French Discover}'. — Cousin. — Normans, Bretons, 
Basques. — Legends and Superstitions. — Francis I. — Verrazzano. 

— His Voyage to Nortli America. — Jacques Cartier. — His First 
Voyage. — His Second Voyage. — Ancliors at Quebec. — Indian 
Masquerade. — Visits Hoclielaga. — His Reception. — Mont Royal. 

— Winter at Quebec. — Scurvy. — Wonderful Cures. — Kidnap- 
ping. — Return to France. — Roberval. — Spanisli Jealousy. — 
Cartier's Tliird Voyage. — Cap Rouge. — Roberval sails for New 
France. — His Meeting with Cartier. — Marguerite and the Isle of 
Demons. — Roberval at Cap Rouge. — His Severity. — Ruin of 
the Colony. — His Death 169 

CHAPTER n. 
1542-1604. 

LA ROCHE. — CHAMPLAIN. — DE MONTS. 

French Fishermen and Fur-Traders. — La Roche. — His Voyage.— 
The Convicts of Sable Island. — Pontgrave' and Chauvin. — 
Tadoussac. — Henry the Fourth. — Tranquillity restored in 
France. — Samuel de Champlain. — He visits the West Indies 
and Mexico. — His Char.nctcr. — De Cliastes and Champlain. — 
Champlain and Pontgrave explore the St. Lawrence. — Death of 
De Chastes. — De Monts. — His Acadian Schemes. — His Patent. 208 

CHAPTER III. 

1604, 1605. 

ACADIA OCCUPIED. 

Catholic and Calvinist. — The Lost Priest. — Port Royal. — The 
Colony of St. Croix. — Winter Miseries. — Explorations of 
Champlain. — He visits the Coast of Massachusetts. — De Monts 
at Port Royal 223 



CONTENTS. ^^ 

CHAPTER IV. 

160;>-1G07. 

LESCAKBOT AND CIIAMPLAIN. 

PAG*. 

De Monts at Paris. — Marc Lescarbot. — Rochelle. — A New Em- 
barkation. — The Ship aground. — Tlie Outward Voyage. — Arri- 
val at Port Royal. — Disappointment. — Voyage of Champlain. — 
Skirmish with Indians. — Masquerade of Lescarbot. — Winter 
Life at Port Royal. — L'Ordre de Bon-Temps. — Excursions. — 
Spring Employments. — Hopes bligiited. — Port Royal abandoned. 

— Membertou. — Return to Erance 234 

CHAPTER V. 

1610, IGIL 

THE JESUITS AND THEIK PATRONESS. 

Schemes of Poutrincourt. — The Jesuits and the King. — The 
Jesuits disappointed. — Sudden Conversions. — Indian Proselytes. 

— Assassination of the King. — Biencourt at Court. — Madame de 
Guercheville. — She resists tlie King's Suit. — Becomes a Devotee. 

— Her Associates at Court. — She aids the Jesuits. — Biard and 
Masse. — Tliey sail for America 251 

CHAPTER VL 

1611, 1612. 

JESUITS IN ACADIA. 

The Jesuits arrive. — Collision of Powers Temporal and Spiritual. 

— Excursion of Biencourt. — Fatlier Masse. — His experience as 
a Missionary. — Death of Membertou. — Father Biard's Indian 
Studies. — Dissension. — Misery at Port Royal. — Grant to Madame 
de Guercheville. — Gilbert du Thet. — Quarrels. — Anathemas. — 
Truce 264 

CHAPTER VIL 
1613, 

SAUSSATE. ARGALL. 

Forlorn Condition of Poutrincourt. — Voyage of Saussaye. — Mount 
Desert. — -St. Savior. — The Jesuit Colony. — Captain Samuel 
Argall. — He attacks the Frencli. — Death of Du Thet. — Knav- 
ery of Arg^'l. — St. Savior destroyed. — The Prisoners 273 



XX CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

1G13-1G15. 

RUIN or FRi;XCH ACADIA. 

fAGK 

The Jesuits at Jamestown. — "Wratli of Sir Thomas Dale. — Second 
Expedition of ArgaU. — Tort Roy.xl demolished. — Equivocal 
Posture of the Jesuits — Jeopardy of Fatiicr Biard. — Biencourt 
and Argall. — Adventures of Biard and Quentin. — Sequel of 
Argali's History. — Deatli of Poutrincourt. — The French will not 
abandon Acadia 284 

CHAPTER IX. 

1G08, 1G09. 

CHAMPLAIN AT QUEBEC. 

A New Enterprise. — Tlie St. Lawrence. — Conflict with Basques. 

— Tadoussac. — The Saguenay. — Quebec founded. — Consjiiracy. 

— Tlie Montagnais. — Winter at Quebec. — Spring. — Projects of 
Exploration 296 

CPIAPTER X. 
1609. 

LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

Champlain joins a War-Party. — Preparation. — War-Dance. — 
Departure. — Tlie River Riclielii'U. — The Rapids of Chambly. 

— The Si)irits consulted. — Discovery of Lake Champlain. — 
Battle with the Iroquois. — Fate of Prisoners. — Panic of the 
Vict jrs 310 

CHAPTER XL 
1G10-1G12. 

WAR. TRADE. DISCOVERY. 

Champlain at Fontainebleau. — Cliamplain on the St. Lawrence. — 
Alarm. — Battle. — Victory. — War- Parties. — Rival Traders. — 
Icebergs. — Adventurers. — Cliamplain at Montreal. — Return to 
France. — Narrow Escape of Cliamplain. — The Comte de Sois- 
Bons. — Tlie Prince of Conde. — Designs of Champlain B25 



CONTENTS. XXI 

CHAPTER XII. 

1G12, 1613. 

THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. 

PAGE 

Illusions. — A Path to the North Sea. — Champlain on the Ottawa. 

— Forest Travellers. — The Cliaudiere. — Isle des AlUimettes.— 
Ottawa Towns. — Tessouat. — Indian Cemetery. — Feast. — The 
Impostor exposed. — Return of Champlain. — False Alarm. — 
Arrival at Montreal 839 

CHAPTER XIII. 
1615. 

DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. 

Religious Zeal of Champlain. — Recollet Friars. — St. Francis. — 
The Franciscans. — The Friars in New France. — Dolbeau. — Le 
Caron. — Policy of Champlain. — Missions. — Trade. — Explo- 
ration. — War. — Le Caron on the Ottawa. — Champlain's Ex- 
pedition. — He reaches Lake Nipissing. — Embarks on Lake 
Huron. — The Huron Villages. — Meeting with Le Caron. — Mass 
in the Wilderness 857 

CHAPTER XIV. 
1615, 1616. 

THE GREAT WAR-PARTY. 

Muster of Warriors. — Departure. — The River Trent. — Deer-Hunt. 

— Lake Ontario. — The Iroquois Town. — Attack. — Repulse.— 
Champlain wounded. — Retreat. — Adventures of Etienne Brule. 

— Winter Hunt. — Champlain lost in the Forest. — Returns to 
the Huron Villages. — Visits the Tobacco Nation and the Clie- 
veux Releves — Becomes Umpire of Indian Quarrels. — Returns 

to Quebec 370 

CHAPTER XV. 

1616-1627. 

HOSTILE SECTS. — RIVAL INTERESTS. 

iiuebec. — Condition of the Colonists. — Dissensions. — Montmoren- 
cy. — Arrival of RLadame de Champlain. — Her History and 
Character. — Indian Hostility — The Monopoly of William and 
Emery de Caen. — The Due de Vcntadour. — The Jesuits. — 



xxii CONTENTS. 

PAGS 

Their Arrival at Quebec. — Catholics and Heretics. — Com- 
promises. — The Rival Colonies. — Des[)Otism in New France and 
in New England. — Richelieu. — The Company of the Hundred 
Associates 887 

CHAPTER XVI. 

1628, 1629. 

THE ENGLISH AT QUEBEC. 

Revolt of Rochelle. — War with England. —David Kirk. — The 
English on the St. Lawrence. — Alarms at Quebec. — Bold Atti- 
tude of Champlain. — Naval Battle. — The French Squadron 
destroyed. — Famine at Quebec. — Return of the English. — 
Quebec surrendered. — Anotlier Naval Battle. — Michel. — His 
Quarrel with Brebeuf. — His Death. — Exploit of Daniel. — 
Champlain at London 401 

CHAPTER XVIL 

1682-1635. 

DEATH OP CHAMPLAIN. 

New France restored to the French Crown. — Motives for reclaiming 
it. — Caen takes Possession of Quebec. — Return of Jesuits. — 
Arrival of Champlain. — Daily Life at Quebec. — Policy and 
Religion. — Death of Champlain. — His Character. — Future of 
New France 412 



HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA; 



SKETCH OF HUGUENOT COLONIZATION IN BRAZIL. 



HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA. 



The story of New France opens with a tragedy. 
The political and religious enmities which were soon to 
bathe Europe in blood broke out Avith an intense and 
concentred fury in the distant wilds of Florida. It 
was under equivocal auspices that Coligny and his par- 
tisans essayed to build up a Calvinist France in Amer- 
ica, and the attempt was met by all the forces of national 
rivalry, personal interest, and religious hate. 

This striking- passage of our early history is remark- 
able for the fulness and precision of the authorities that 
illustrate it. The incidents of the Huguenot occupa- 
tion of Florida are recorded by eight eye - witnesses. 
Their evidence is marked by an unusual accord in re- 
spect to essential facts, as well as by a minuteness of 
statement which suggests vivid pictures of the events 
described. The following are the principal authorities 
consulted for the main body of the narrative. 

Ribauld, The Whole and True Discoverie of Terra 
Florida. This is Captain Jean Ribaut's account of 
his voyage to Florida in 1562. It was " prynted at 
London," " newly set forthe in Englishe " in 1563, and 
reprinted by Hakluyt in 1582 in his black-letter tract 
1 



2 HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA. 

entitled Divers Voijages. It is not known to exist in 
the oria^inal French. 

L'Histoire Notable de la Floride, mise en lumiere 
par 31. Basanier, (Paris, 1586). The most valuable 
portion of this work consists of the letters of Rene de 
Laudonniere, the French commandant in Florida in 
1564, 'Q5. They are interesting, and, with necessary 
allowance for the position and prejudices of the writer, 
trustworthy. 

Challeux, Discours de VHistoire de la Floride^ 
(Dieppe, 1566). Challeux was a carpenter, who went 
to Florida in 1565. He was above sixty years of age, 
a zealous Huguenot, and a philosopher in his way. 
His story is affecting from its simplicity. Various edi- 
tions of ifappeared under various titles. 

Le Moyne, Brevis Narratio eorum quce in Florida 
Americce Provincid Gallis acciderunt Le Moyne 
was Laudonniere's artist. His narrative forms the 
Second Part of the Grands Voyages of De Bry, 
(Frankfort, 1591). It is illustrated by numerous 
drawings made by the writer from memory, and accom- 
panied with descriptive letter-press. 

Coppie d\me Lettre venant de la Floride, (Paris, 
1565). This is a letter from one of the adventurers 
under Laudonniere. It is reprinted in the Recueil de 
Pieces sur la Floride of Ternaux-Compans. 

Une Requete au Roy^faite en forme de Complainte, 
(1566). This is a petition for redress to Charles the 
Ninth from the relatives of the French massacred in 
Florida by the Spaniards. It recounts many incidents 
of tluit tragedy. 



HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA. g 

La Reprinse de la Floride par le Cappitaine Gourgue, 
This is a manuscript in the Bibliotheque Imperiale, 
printed in the Reciieil of Ternaux-Compans. It con- 
tains a detailed account of the remarkable expedition 
of Dominique de Gourgues against the Spaniards in 
Florida in 1567, '68. 

Charlevoix, in his Histoire de la Nouvelle France^ 
speaks of another narrative of this expedition, in manu- 
script, preserved in the Gourgues family. A copy of 
it, made in 1831 by the Vicomte de Gourgues, has been 
placed at the writer's disposal. 

Various works upon the Huguenots in Florida, in 
French and Latin, were published towards the end of 
the sixteenth century, but all are founded on some one 
or more of those just named. The Spanish authorities 
are the following : — 

Barcia, (Cardenas y Cano,) Ensayo Cronologico para 
la Historia General de la Florida^ (Madrid, 17^3). 
This annalist had access to original documents, of great 
interest. Some of them are used as material for his 
narrative, others are copied entire. Of these, the most 
remarkable is that of Solis de las Meras, 3femorial 
de todas las Jornadas de la Gonquista de la Florida. 

Francisco Lopez de Mendoza, De Vheiireux resul- 
tat et du hon voyage que Dieu notre Seigneur a Men 
voidu accorder a la flotte qui partit de la ville de Gadiz 
pour se rendre a la cote de la Floride. This is a Span- 
ish manuscript, translated into French and printed in 
the Recueil de Pieces sur la Floride of Ternaux-Cam- 
pans. Mendoza was chaplain of the expedition com- 



4, HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA. 

maiideJ by Menendez de Aviles, and, like Solis, ho was 
an eye-witness of the events which he relates. 

Pedro Menendez de Aviles, Siete Cartas escritas al 
Rey, Anos de 1565 y 1566, MSS. These are the 
despatches of the Adelantado Menendez to Philip the 
Second. They were procured for the writer, together 
with other documents, from the archives of Seville, and 
their contents are now for the first time made public. 
They consist of seventy - two closely written foolscap 
pages, and are of the highest interest and value as 
regards the present subject, confirming and amplifying 
the statements of Solis and Mendoza, and giving new 
and curious information with respect to the designs of 
Spain upon the continent of North America. 

It is unnecessary to specify here the authorities for 
the introductory and subordinate portions of the narra- 
tive. 

The writer is indebted to Mr. Buckingham Smith, 
for procuring copies of documents from the archives 
of Spain ; to Mr. Bancroft, the historian of the United 
States, for the use of the Vicomte de Gourgues's copy 
of the journal describing the expedition of his ancestor 
against the Spaniards ; and to Mr. Charles Russell 
Lowell of the Boston Athenpeum, and Mr. John Lang- 
don Sibley, Librarian of Harvard College, for obliging 
aid in consulting books and papers. 

The portrait at the beginning of this volume is a 
fac-sijiile from an old Spanish engraving, of undoubted 
authenticity. This, also, was obtained through the kind- 
ness of Mr. Buckingham Smith. 



HUGUENOTS IX FLORIDA. 
CHAPTER I. 

1512 — 1561. 

EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. 

Spanish Voyagkrs. — Rojiaxce and Avarice. — Ponce de Leon. — Ihk 
Fountain of Youth and the Rivek .Jordan. — Florida discoveiikd. 
— Pampiiilo de Narvaez. — Hernando de Soto — His Career. — His 
Death. — Succeeding Voyagers. — Spanish Claim to Florida. — 
Spanish Jealousy of France. 

Towards the close of the fifteenth century, Spain 
achieved her final triumph over the infidels of Granada, 
and made her name glorious through all generations by 
the discovery of America. The religious zeal and ro- 
mantic daring which a long- course of Moorish wars 
had called forth, were now exalted to redoubled fervor. 
Every ship fiom the New World came freighted with 
marvels which put the fictions of chivalry to shame ; 
and to the Spaniard of that day America was a region 
of wonder and mystery, of vague and magnificent prom- 
ise. Thither adventurers hastened, thirsting for glorv 
and for gold, and often mingling the enthusiasm of 
the crusader and the valor of the knight-errant with the 
bigotry of inquisitors and the rapacity of pirates. They 

roamed over land and sea ; they climbed unknown 
1* 



g ^ EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. [1512. 

mountains, surveyed unknown oceans, pierced the sultry- 
intricacies of troj)ical forests ; while from year to year 
and from day to day new wonders were unfolded, new 
islands and archipelagoes, new regions of gold and pearl, 
and barbaric empires of more than Oriental wealth. 
The extravagance of hope and the fever of adventure 
knew no bounds. Nor is it surprising that amid such 
wakino- marvels the imao^ination should run wild in 
romantic dreams ; that between the possible and the 
impossible the line of distinction should be but faintly 
drawn, and that men should be found ready to stake 
life and honor in pursuit of the most insane fantasies. 

Such a man was Juan Ponce de Leon, a veteran cav- 
alier, whose restless spirit age could not tame. Still 
greedy of honors and of riches, be embarked at Porto 
Rico with three brigantines, bent on schemes of discov- 
ery. But that which gave the chief stimulus to his 
enterprise was a story, current among the Indians of 
Cuba and Hispaiiiola, that on the island of Biniini, one 
of the Lucayos, there was a fountain of such virtue, 
that, bathing in its waters, old men resumed their youth.-' 

1 Ilerrera, Hist. General, d. I. 1. IX. c. XII. ; De Liiet, Noms Orhh, 1. 
T. c. XVI. ; Garcilaso, Hist, de la Florida, p. 1. 1. I. c. III. Gomara, Hist. 
Gen. des hides Orcidenlales,'\. II. c. X. Coin])are Peter MarU'r, De Rebus 
Oceaiiicis, d. VII. c. VII., who says that the fountain was in Florida. 

The story hap an explanation suffieientl}' charaeteristic, having been 
suggested, it is said, by the beauty of tl\e native women, which none 
could resist, and which kindled tlie fires of youth in the veins of age. 

The terms of Ponce de Leon's bargain with the King are set forth in 
the MS. C(i]>ilHl(tcion con Juan Ponce sohre Bintimj. He was to jiave 
exclusive rigiit to the island, settle it at liis own cost, and be called 
Adelantado of Bimini ; but the King was to build and hold forts there, 
send agents to divide the Indians among the settlers, and I'eceive first a 
tenth, afterward a fifth of the gold. 



1628.] PONCE. — PAIVIPHILO DE NARVAEZ. rf 

It was said, moreover, that on a neighboring" shore 
might he found a river gifted with the same beneficent 
property, and believed by some to be no other than the 
Jordan.^ Ponce de Leon found the island of Biniini, 
but not the fountain. Farther westward, in the latitude 
of thirty degrees and eight minutes, he approached an 
unknown land which he named Florida, and steering 
southward, explored its coast as far as the extreme 
point of the peninsula, when, after some farther explo- 
rations, he retraced his course to Porto Rico. 

Ponce de Leon had not regained his youth, but his 
active spirit was unsubdued. 

Nine years later he attempted to plant a colony in 
Florida ; but the Indians attacked him fiercely ; he was 
mortally wounded, and died soon afterwards in Cuba.^ 

The voyages of Garay and Vasquez de Ayllon 
threw new light on the discoveries of Ponce, and the 
general outline of the coasts of Florida becanie known 
to the Spaniards.^ Meanwhile, Coites had concpiered 
Mexico, and the fame of that iniquitous but magniiicent 
exploit rang through all Spain. Many an impatient 
cavalier burned to achieve Ji kindred fortune. To the 
excited fancy of the Spamards the unknown land of Flor- 
ida seemed the seat of surpassing- wealth, and Pamphilo 
de Narvaez essayed to possess himself of its fancied 

1 Fontancdo in Ternaux-Oompans, Becneil mr In Floride, 18, 19, 42. 
Compare Hcrrera as above cited. In allusion to this belief, the name 
Jordan was given eight years afterwards by Ayllon to a river of South 
Carolina. 

2 Hakluyt, Vonnnes, V. 333; Herrera, d. III. 1. I. c. XIV. ; Barcia, 
Emayo Civiiolo;/ico, 5. 

3 Peter Martyr in Hakluyt, V. 333, 503 ; De Laet, 1. IV. c. II. 



8 EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. [1628. 

treasures. Landing on its shores, and proclaiming- de- 
struction to the Indians unless they acknowledged the 
sovereignty of the Pope and the Emperor,^ he advanced 
into the forests with three Imndred men. Nothing could 
exceed their sufferings. Nowhere could tiiey find the 
gold they came to seek. The village of Appalache, 
where they hoped to gain a rich booty, offered nothing 
but a few mean wigwams. The horses gave out, and 
the famished soldiers fed upon their flesh. The men 
sickened, and the Indians unceasingly harassed their 
march. At length, after two hundred and eighty 
leagues^ of wandering, they found themselves on the 
northern shore of the Gulf of Mexico, and desperately 
put to sea in such crazy boats as their skill and means 
could construct. Cold, disease, famine, thirst, and the 
fury of the waves, melted them away. Narvaez him- 
self perished, and of his wretched follow'ers no more 
than four escaped, reaching' by land, after years of vicis- 
situde, the Christian settlements of New Spain.^ 

Th(! interior of the vast country then comprehended 
under the name of Florida still remained unexplored. 

1 Sommation aux Hahilants de la Floride, in Ternaux-Compans, 1. 

^ Their own exaggerated reckoning-. Tiie journey was from Tampa 
Bay to tlie Appalachicola, by a circuitous route. 

^ Narrative of Alvar Niiriez Cabe^a de Vaca, second in command to 
Narvaez, translated by Buckingliam Smith. Cabeea de Vaca was one of 
tlie four who escaped, and, after Uving for years among the tribes of 
Mississippi, crossed tlie River Mississi[)pi near Memphis, journeyed west- 
ward by the waters of the Arkansas and Red River to New Mexico and 
Chihuaiiua, thence to Cinaloa on the Gulf of California, and thence to 
Mexico. The narrative is one of the most remarkable of the early rela- 
tions. See also Raniusio, III. 310, and Purchas, IV. 1499, where a por- 
tion of Cabeea de Vaca is given. Also, Garcilaso, c. III. ; Goinara, 1. U, 
e. XI. ; De Luet, I. IV. c. III. ; Barcia, Ensaijo Cronologko, 19. 



1539 J HERNANDO DE SOTO. Q 

The Spanish voyager, as his caravel ploughed the ad- 
jacent seas, might give full scope to his iiuagination, 
and dream that beyond the long, low margin of for- 
est wiiich bounded his horizon lay hid a rich harvest 
for some future conqueror ; perhaps a second Mexico 
with its royal palace and sacred pyramids, or another 
Cuzco with its temple of the Sun, encircled with a 
frieze of gold. Haunted by such visions, the ocean 
chivalry of Spain could not long stand idle. 

Hernando de Soto was the companion of Pizarro in 
the conquest of Peru. He had come to America a 
needy adventurer, with no other fortune than his sword 
and target. But his exploits had given him fame and 
fortune, and he appeared at court with the retinue of a 
nobleman.^ Still his active energies could not endure 
repose, and his avarice and ambition goaded him to fresh 
enterprises. He asked and obtained permission to con- 
quer Florida. While this design was in agitation, Ca- 
bec;a de Vaca, one of those who had survived the expe- 
dition of Narvaez, appeared in Spain, and for purposes 
of his own spread abroad the mischievous falsehood, that 
Florida was the richest country yet discovered.^ De 
Soto's plans were embraced with enthusiasm. Nobles 
and gentlemen contended for the privilege of joining his 
standard ; and, setting sail with an ample armament, he 
lauded at the Bay of Es])iritu Santo, now Tampa Bay, 
in Florida, with six hundred and twenty chosen men,^ 

1 Iielation of the Portnrjuese (Jpnlleman of Elvas, c. I. See Descohn'menio 
da Florida, c. I. See, also, Hakluyt, V. 483. 
^ Relation of the Gentleman of EIras, c. II. 
*■ Rilation of Biedina, in Ternaux-Coiupans, 51. The Gentleman of 



IQ EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. [1541. 

a band as gallant and well appointed, as eager in pur- 
pose and audacious in hope, as ever trod the shores of 
the New World. The clangor of trumpets, the neighing 
of horses, the fluttering of pennons, the glittering of 
helmet and lance, startled the ancient forest with un- 
wonted greeting. Amid this pomp of chivalry, religion 
was not forgotten. The sacred vessels and vestments 
with bread and wine for the Eucharist were carefully 
provided ; and De Soto himself declared that the enter- 
prise was undertaken for God alone, and seemed to be 
the object of His especial care.-^ These devout maraud- 
ers could not neglect the spiritual welfare of the Indians 
whom they had come to plunder ; and besides fetters 
to bind, and bloodhounds to hunt them, they bi'ought 
priests and monks, for the saving of their souls. 

The adventurers began their march. Their story has 
been often told. For month after month and year after 
year, the procession of priests and cavaliers, cross-bow- 
men, arquebusiers, and Indian cai)tives laden with the 
baffiracre, still wandered on through wild and boundless 
wastes, lured hither and thither by the ignis-fatuiis of 
their hopes. They traversed great portions of Georgia, 
Alabama, arid Mississippi, everywhere inflicting and 
.enduring misery, but never approaching their phantom 
El Dorado. At length, in the third year of their journey- 
ing, they reached the banks of the Mississipj)i, a hun- 
dred and thirty-two years before its second discovery by 

Elvas says in round numbers six hundred. Garcilaso de la Vega, who 
is unworthy of credit, makes the number much greater. 

1 Letter from De Soto to tlie Municipality of Santiago, dated at the 
Harbor of Espiritu Santo, 9 July, 1539. See Ternaux-Compans, 43. 



1541.] DEATH OF DE SOTO. H 

Marquette. One of their number describes the great- 
river as ahnost half a league wide, deep, rapid, and 
Cfnistantly rolling' down trees and drift-wood on its tur- 
bid current.^ 

Tlie Spaniards crossed over at a point above the 
mouth of the Arkansas. They advanced westward, but 
found no treasures, — nothing indeed but hardships, and 
an Indian enemy, furious, writes one of their officers, 
"as mad dogs."^ They heard of a country towards 
the north where maize could not be cidtivated because 
the vast herds of wild cattle devoured it.^ They 
penetrated so far that they entered the range of the 
roving prairie - tribes ; for, one day, as they pushed 
their way witli difficulty across great plains covered 
with tall, rank grass, they met a band of savages who 
dwelt in lodges of skins sewed together, subsisting on 
game alone, and wandering perpetually from place to 
place.* Finding' neither gold nor the South Sea, for 
both of which rhey had hoped, they returned to the 
banks of the Mississippi. 

De Soto, says one of those who accompanied him, 
was a " stern man, and of few words." Even in the 
midst of reverses, his will had been law to his followers, 
and he had sustained himself through the depths of dis- 
appointment with the energy of a stubborn pride. Hut 
his hour was come. He fell into deep dejection, followed 

1 Portuguese Relation, c. XXII. 

2 Biedma, 95. 

3 Portuguese Relation, c. XXIV. A still earlier mention of the bison 
occurs in tlie journal of Cabe^a de Vaca. Tlievet, in his Singularit^s, 
1558, gives a picture intended to represent a bison-buU. Coronado saw this 
animal in 1540, but ^yas not, as some assert, its first discoverer. 

* Biedma 91 



J2 EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. il648. 

-by an attack of fever, and soon after died miserably. 
To j)reseive bis body from tbe Indians, liis followers 
sank it at niidnigbt in the river, and the sullen waters 
of the Mississijjpi buried his ambition and bis hopes.^ 

The advenlurei's were now, with few exceptions, dis- 
gusted with the enterprise, and lonoed only to esc-aj)e 
from the scene of their miseries. After a vain attempt 
to reach Mexico by land, they again turned back to the 
Mississippi, and labored, with all the resouices which 
their desperate necessity could suggest, to construct ves- 
sels in which they might make their way to some Chris- 
tian settlement. Their condition was most forlorn. Few 
of their horses remained alive ; their baggage had been 
destroyed at the burning of the Indian town of Mavila, 
and many of the soldiers were without armor and with- 
out weapons. In place of the gallant array which, more 
than three years before, had left the harbor of Espiritu 
Santo, a company of sickly and starving men were 
laboring among the swampy forests of the Mississippi, 
some clad in skins, and some in mats woven from a 
kind of wild vine.^ 

Seven brigantines were finished and launched; and, 
trusting their lives on board these frail vessels, they de- 
scended the Mississippi, running the gantlet between 
liostile tribes who fieix'ely attacked them. Reaching 
the Gulf, though not without the loss of eleven of their 
number, they made sail for the Spanish settlement on 
the River Panuco, where they arrived safely, and where 

1 Poi-tuf/upse Relation, c. XXX. 

2 Ihid. 0. XX. See Ilakluyt, V. 515. 



1568.J GUIDO DE LAS BAZARES. Jg 

the inhabitants met them with a cordial welcome. Three 
hundred and eleven men thus escaped with life, leaving 
behind them the bones of their comrades strewn broad- 
cast through the wilderness.^ 

De Soto's fate proved an insufficient warning, for 
those were still found who begged a fresh commission 
for the conquest of Florida ; but the Emperor would 
not hear them. A more pacific enterprise was under- 
taken by Cancello, a Dominican monk, who with sev- 
eral brother-ecclesiastics undertook to convert the natives 
to the true faith, but was murdered in the attempt.^ 
Nine years later a plan was formed for the colonization 
of Florida, and Guido de las Bazares sailed to explore 
the coasts, and find a spot suitable for the establish- 
ment.^ After his return, a squadron, commanded by 

1 1 have followed the accounts of Biedma and the Portuguese of Elvas 
rejecting the romantic narrative of Garcilaso, in which fiction is hopelessly 
mingled with trutla. 

2 Relation of Beteta, Ternaux-Compans, 107 ; Documentos Ineditos, ToniG 
XXVI. 340. Comp. Garcilaso, 1. I. c. III. 

^ The spirit of this and otlier Spanish enterprises may be gathered 
from the following passage in an address to the King signed by Dr. Pedrc 
de Santander, and dated 15 July, 1557. 

" It is lawful that your Majesty, like a good shepherd, appointed by the 
hand of the Eternal Father, should tend and lead out your sheep, since 
the Holy Spirit has shown spreading pastures whereon are feeding lost 
sheep which have been snatched away by the dragon, the Demon. These 
pastures are the New "World wherein is comprised Florida, now in posses- 
sion of the Demon, and here he makes himself adored and revered. 
Tliis is the Land of Promise, possessed by idolaters, the Amorite, Amal- 
ekite, Moabite, Canaanite. This is the land promised by the Eternal 
Father totlie Faithful, since we are commanded by God in the holy Scrip- 
tures to take it from them, being idolaters, and, by reason of their idolatry 
and sin, to put tliem all to the knife, leaving no living thing save maidens 
and children, their cities robbed and sacked, their walls and houses lev- 
elled to the earth." 

The writer then goes into detail, proposing to occupy Florida at various 



l^^ EARLY SPANISH ADVENTURE. [1541. 

Angel de Villafaue, and freighted with supplies and 
men, put to sea from San Juan d'Ulloa; but the 
elements were adverse, and the result was a total 
failure.^ Not a Spaniard had yet gained foothold in 
Florida. 

That name, as the Spaniards of that day understood 
it, comprehended the whole'country extencUng from the 
Atlantic on the east to the longitude of New Mexico on 
the west, and from the Gidf of Mexico and the River 
of Palms indefinitely northward towards the polar sea.^ 
This vast territory was claimed by Spain in right of the 
discoveries of Columbus, the grant of the Pope, and the 
various expeditions mentioned above. England claimed 
it in right of the discoveries of Cabot ; while France 
could advance no better title than might be derived 
from the voyage of Verazzano. 

With restless jealousy Spain watched the domain 
which she could not occupy, and on France, especially, 
she kept an eye of deep distrust. When, in 154-1, Car- 
tier and Roberval essayed to phmt a colony in the part 
of ancient Spanish Florida now called Canada, she sent 
spies and fitted out caravels to watch that abortive en- 
points witli from one thousand to fifteen hundred colonists, found a city 
to be called Philippina, also another at Tuscaloosa, to be called Csesarea, 
another at Tallahassee, and anotlier at Tampa Ba}^, where he thinks many 
elaves could be had. Carta del Doctor Pedro de Sautander, MS. 

1 The papers relating to these abortive expeditions are preserved by 
Ternaux-Compans. 

2 Garcilaso, I. I. c. II.; Ilerrera in Parchas, III. 8G8; De Laet, 1. IV. 
e, XIII. Barcia, Ensaj/o Cronoloi/ico, An MDCXL, speaks of Quebec 
as a part of Elorida. In a map of the tmie of Henry the Second of 
France, all North America is named Terra Florida. 



1541.] SPANISH JEALOUSY. 15 

terprise.-^ Her fears proved just. Canada, indeed, 
was long to remain a solitude ; but, despite the papal 
bounty gifting Spain with exclusive ownership of a 
hemisphere, France and Heresy at length took root in 
the sultry forests of modern Florida. 

1 See various papers on this subject in the Cokccion de Varios Docu- 
mentos of Buckingham Smitli. 



CHAPTER 11. 

1550—1558. 
VILLEGAGNON. 

Spain and France in the Sixteenth Centukt. — Gaspae de Coligny. — 

ViLLEGAGNON. — HiS EaRLY EXPLOITS. — HiS SCHEME OF A PROTESTANT 

Colony. — Huguenots at Rio Janeiro. — Polemics. — Tyranny of Vil- 

LEGAGNON. — ThE MINISTERS EXPELLED. — ThE CoLONY RUINED. 

In the middle of the sixteenth century, Spain was the 
incubus of Europe. Gloontiy and portentous, she chilled 
the world with her baneful shadow. Her old feudal 
liberties were gone, absorbed in the despotism of Ma- 
drid. A tyranny of monks and inquisitors, with their 
swarms of spies and informers, their racks, their dun- 
geons, and their fagots, crushed all freedom of thought 
or speech ; and, while the Dominican held his reign of 
terror and force, the deeper Jesuit guided the mind 
from infancy into those narrow depths of bigotry from 
which it was never to escape. Political despotism, re- 
ligious despotism, commercial despotism ; — the hands 
of the government were on every branch of industry. 
Perverse regulations, uncertain and ruinous taxes, 
monopolies, encouragements, prohibitions, restrictions, 
cramped the national energy. Mistress of the Indies, 
Spain swarmed with beggars. Yet, verging to decay, 
she had an ominous and appalling strength. Her con- 
dition was that of an athletic man penetrated vi'ith 



1560.1 SPAIN AND FEAJSTCE. 



17 



disease, which had not yet unstrung the thews and 
sinews formed in his days of vigor. Philip the Sec- 
ond could coniniand the service of warriors and states- 
men developed in the years that were past. The 
gathered energies of ruined feudalism were wielded by 
a single hand. The mysterious King, in his den in 
the Escurial, dreary and silent, and bent like a scribe 
over his papers, was the type and the champion of 
arbitrary power. More than the Pope himself, he was 
the head of Catholicity. In doctrine and in deed, the 
inexorable bigotry of Madrid was ever in advance of 
Rome. 

Not so with France. She was full of life, — a dis- 
cordant and struggling vitality. Her monks and priests, 
unhke those of Spain, were rarely either fanatics or 
bigots ; yet not the less did they ply the rack and the 
fagot, and howl for heretic blood. Their all was at 
stake : their vast power, their bloated wealth, wrapped 
up in the ancient faith. Men were burned, women 
buried alive. All was in vain. To the utmost bounds 
of France, the leaven of the Reform was working. The 
Huguenots, fugitives from torture and death, found an 
asylum at Geneva, their city of refuge, gathering around 
Calviu, their great high-priest. Thence intrepid col- 
porteurs, their lives in tbeir hands, bore the Bible and 
the psalm-book to city, hamlet, and castle, to feed the 
rising flame. The scattered churches, pressed by a 
common danger, began to organize. An ecclesiastical 
republic spread its ramifications through F^'rance, and 
grew underground to a vigorous life, — pacific at the 



18 VILLEGAGNON. llooO. 

outset, for the great body of its members were tbe quiet 
hourgeoisie^ by habit, as by faith, averse to violence. 
Yet a potent fraction of the warhke noblesse was also, 
of the new faith ; and above them all, preeminent in 
character as in station, stood Caspar de Coligny, Ad- 
miral of France. 

The old palace of the Louvre, reared by the " Roi 
Chevalier " on the site of those dreary feudal towers 
which of old had guarded the banks of the Seine, held 
within its sculptured masonry the worthless brood of 
Valois. Corruption and intrigue ran riot at the court. 
Factious nobles, bishops, and cardinals, with no God 
but pleasure and ambition, contended around the throne 
or the sick-bed of the futile king. Catherine de Medi- 
cis, with her stately form, her mean spirit, her bad heart, 
and fathondess depths of duplicity, strove by every sub- 
tle art to hold the balance of power among them. Guise, 
bold, pitiless, insatiable, and his brother the Cardinal 
of Lorraine, the incarnation of falsehood, reoted their 
ambition on the Catholic party. Their arajy was a 
legion of priests, and the black swarms of countless 
monasteries, who by the distribution of alms held in pay 
the rabble of cities and starving peasants on the lands 
of impoverished nobles. Montmorency, Conde, Navarre, 
leaned towards the Reform, — doubtful and inconstant 
chiefs, whose faith weighed light against their interests. 
Yet, amid vacillation, selfishness, weakness, treachery, 
one great man was like a tower of trust, and this was 
Caspar de Coligny. 

Firm in his convictions, steeled by perils and emlur 



1641.] HIS EAELY EXPLOITS. JQ 

ance, calm, sagacious, resolute, grave even to severity, 
a valiant and redoubted soldier, Coligny looked abroad 
on the gathering storm and read its danger in advanc«>. 
He saw a strange depravity of manners ; bribery and 
violence overriding justice ; discontented nobles, and 
peasants ground down with taxes. In the midst of 
this rottenness, the Calvinist churches, patient and stern, 
were fast gathering to themselves the better hfe of the 
nation. Among and around them tossed the surges of 
clerical hate. Luxurious priests, libertine monks, saw 
their disorders rebuked by the grave virtues of the 
Protestant zealots. Their broad lands, their rich en- 
dowments, their vessels of silver and of gold, their 
dominion over souls — in itself a revenue, — all these 
were imperilled by the growing heresy. Nor was the 
Reform less exacting, less intolerant, or, when its hour 
came, less aggressive than the ancient faiih. The storm 
was thickening. It must burst soon. 

When the Emperor Charles the Fifth beleaguered 
Algiers, his camps were deluged b}'' a blinding tempest, 
and at its height the infidels made a furious sally. A 
hundred Knights of Malta, on foot, wearing over their 
armor surcoats of crimson blazoned with the white cross, 
bore the brunt of the assault. Conspicuous among 
them was Nicholas Durand de Villegagnon. A Moor- 
ish cavalier, rushing upon him, pierced his arm with a 
lance, and wheeled to repeat the blow ; but the knight 
leaped on the infidel, stabbed him with his dagger, and 
flinging him from his horse, mounted in his place. 
Again, a Moslem host landed in Malta and beset the 



20 VILLEGAGNON. [1554. 

Cite Notable. The garrison was weak, dislieartened, 
and without a leader. Villeoapfnon with six followers, 
all friends of his own, passed under cover of night 
through the infidel leaguer, climbed the walls by ropes 
lowered from above, took command, repaired the shat 
tered towers, aiding with his own hands in the work, 
and animated the garrison to a resistance so stubborn.; 
that the besiegers lost heart and betook themselves to 
their galleys. No less was he an able and accomplished 
mariner, prominent among that chivalry of the sea who 
held the perilous verge of Christendom against the 
Mussulman. He claimed other laurels than those of 
the sword. He was a scholar, a linguist, a contro- 
versialist, potent with the tongue and with the pen ; 
commanding in presence, eloquent and persuasive in 
discourse. Yet this Crichton of France had proved 
himself an associate nowise desirable. His sleepless 
intellect was matched with a spirit as restless, vain, 
unstable, and ambitious, as it was enterprising and 
bold. Addicted to dissent, and enamored of polemics, 
ho, entered those forbidden fields of inquiry and con- 
troversy to which the Reform invited him. Undaunted 
by his monastic vows, he battled for heresy with tongue 
and pen, and in the ear of Protestants professed him 
self a Protestant. As a Commander of his Order, he 
quarrelled with the Grand Master, a domineering Span- 
iard ; and, as Vice-Admiral of Brittany, he was deep in 
a feud with the Governor of Brest.^ Disgusted at 

1 Villegagnon himself has left an account in Latin of the expedition 
afrainst Algiers under the title, Caroli V. Imperatoris Expeditio in A/ricam 



1554.] HIS PKOJECTED COLOXY. gj 

home, his foncy crossed the seas. He would fain build 
for France and himself an empire amid the tropical 
splendors of Brazil. Few could match him in the gift 
of persuasion ; and tiie intrepid seaman whose skill and 
valor had run the gantlet of the English fleet, and 
borne Mary Stuart of Scotland in safety to her espou- 
sals with the Dauphin,^ might well be intrusted with a 
charge of moment so far inferior. Henry the Second 
was still on the throne. The lance of Montgomery had 
not yet rid France of that infliction. To win a share in 
the rich domain of the New World, of which Portuguese 
and Spanish arrogance claimed the monopoly, — such 
was the end held by Villegagnon before the eyes of the 
King. Of the Huguenots, he said not a word. For Col- 
igny he had another language. He spoke of an asylum 
for persecuted religion, a Geneva in the wilderness, far 
from priests and monks and Francis of Guise. The 
Admiral gave him a ready ear; nay, it is doubtful if 
he himself had not first conceived the plan. Yet, to the 
King, an active burner of Huguenots, he, too, urged it 
as an enterprise, not for the Faith, but for France. In 

Paris, 1542. Also, an account of tlie war at Malta, De Bello Melitensi, 
Paris, 1553. 

He is the subject of a long and erudite treatise in Bayle, Dictionnaire 
Hintorique. Notices of him are also to be found in Guerin, Nuvi<iateurs 
Francais, 162 ; lb. Marins llhistres, 231 ; Lescarbot, Hist, de la Nouv. France, 
(1612,) 146-217 ; La Popeliniere, Les Trois Mondes, III. 2. 

There are extant against him a number of Calvinist satires, in prose 
and verse, — UEtrille de Nicolas Darand, — La Suffiaance de Villegaiijnon, 
— L' Espousette des Arnioiries de Villegaignon, fete. 

1 This was in 1548. The English were on the watch, but Villegngnon, 
by a union of daring and skill, escaped them and landed the future Queen 
of Scots, then six years old, in Britlany, whence being carriei to Paria, 
she was affianced to the future Prancis the Second 



gg VILLEGAGNON. [1655. 

secret, Geneva was made privy to it, and Calvin him- 
self embraced it with zeal. 

Two vessels were made ready, in tlie name of the 
King. The body of the emigration was Huguenot, min- 
gled with young nobles, restless, idle, and poor, with 
reckless artisans, and piratical sailors from the Norman 
and Breton seaports. They put to sea from Havre on 
the twelfth of July, 1555, and early in November saw 
the shores of Brazil. Entering the harbor of Rio 
Janeiro, then called Ganabara, Villegagnon landed 
men and stores on an island, built huts, and threw np 
earthworks. In anticipation of future triumphs, the 
whole continent, by a strange perversion of language, 
was called Antarctic France, while the fort received 
the name of Coligny. 

Villegagnon signalized his new-born Protestantism 
by an intolerable solicitude for the manners and morals 
of his followers. The whip and the pilk)ry requited the 
least offence. The wild and discordant crew, starved 
and flogged for a season into submission, conspired at 
length to rid themselves of him ; but while they debated 
whether to poison him, blow liim up, or murder him and 
his officers in their sleep, three Scotch soldiers, prob- 
ably Calvinists, revealed the plot, and the vigorous 
hand of the commandant crushed it in the bud. 

But how was the colony to subsist 1 Their islnnd was 
too small for culture, while the main land was infested 
with hostile tribes, and threatened by the Portuguese, 
vidio regarded the French occupancy as a violation of 
their domain. 



1567.] HUGUENOTS AT RIO JANEIRO. ^ 

Meanwhile, in France, Huguenot influence, aided by 
ardent letters sent home by Villegagnon in the returning 
ships, was urging on the work. Nor were the Catho- 
lic chiefs averse to an enterprise which, by colonizing 
heresy, might tend to relieve France of its presence. 
Another embarkation was prepared, in the name of 
Henry the Second, under Bois-Lecomte, a nephew of 
VilleaaHnon. Most of the emigrrants were Husfuenots. 
Geneva sent a large deputation, and among them sev- 
eral ministers, full of zeal for their land of promise 
and their new church in the wilderness. There were 
five young women, also, with a matron to watch ovei- 
them. Soldiers, emigrants, and sailors, two hundred 
and ninety in all, were embarked in three vessels ; and, 
to the sound of cannon, drums, fifes, anil trumpets, they 
unfurled their sails at Honfleur. They were no sooner 
on the high seas than the piratical character of the 
Norman sailors, in no way exceptional at that day, be- 
gan to declare itself. They hailed every vessel weaker 
than themselves, pretended to be short of provisions, 
and demanded leave to buy them ; then, boarding the 
stranger, plundered her from stem to stern. After a 
passage of four months, on the ninth of March, 15.57, 
tliey entered the port of Ganabara, and saw the fleur- 
de-lis floating above the walls of Fort Coligny. Amid 
salutes of cannon, the boats,- crowded with sea-worn 
emigrants, moved towards the landing. It was an 
edifying- scene when Villegagnon, in the picturesque 
attire which marked the warlike noblesse of the period, 
came down to the shore to greet the sombre ministera 



Q4< VILLEGAGNON. n^br. 

of Calvin. With hands uplifted and eyes raised to 
heaven, he hade them welcome to the new asylum of 
the Faithful, then launched into a long harangue full of 
zeal and unction.-^ His discourse finished, he led the 
way to the dining-hall. If the redundancy of spiritual 
aliment had surpassed their expectations, the ministers 
were little prepared for the meagre provision which 
awaited their temporal cravings ; for, with appetites 
whetted hy the sea, they found themselves seated at a 
board, whereof, as one of them complains, the choicest 
dish was a dried fish, and the only beverage, rain-water. 
They found their consolation in the inward graces of 
the commandant, whom they likened to the Apostle 
Paul. 

For a time all was ardor and hope. Men of birth 
and station, and the ministers themselves, labored with 
pick and shovel to finish the fort. Every day, exhorta- 
tions, sermons, prayers, followed in close succession, and 

1 De Lery, Historia Naviqationis in Brasilunn, (1586,) 43. De Lery was 
one of tlie ministers. His account is long and very curious. His work 
was published in French, in 1578 and 1611. The Latin version has ap- 
peared under several forms, and is to be found in the Second Part of De 
Bry, decorated with a profusion of engravings, including portraits of a 
great variety of devils, with which, it seems, Brazil was overrun, con- 
spicuous among whom is one with the body of a bear and tlie head of a 
man. This ungainly fiend is also depicted in the edition of 1586. The 
conception, a novelty in demonology, M'as clearly derived from ancient 
rejjresentations of that singular product of Brazil, the sloth. In the 
curious work of Andre Thevet, Les Sini)ularites de la France Antavctique, 
aulreiiieiit nonviiee Amerique, published in 1558, a])pears the portraiture of 
this animal, the body being that " d'un petit ours," and the face that of 
an intelligent man. Thevet, however, though a firm believer in devils 
of all kinds, suspects nothing demoniacal in his sloth, which he held for 
Bome time in captivity, and describes as "une beste assez estrange." 



1557.J POLEMICS. 25 

Villegagnou was always present, kneeling- on a velvet 
cushion, brought after him by a page. Soon, however, 
he fell into sharp controversy with the ministers upon 
points of faith. Among the emigrants was a student 
of the Sorbonne, one Cointac, between whom and the 
ministers arose a fierce and unintermitted war of words. 
Is it lawful to mix water with the wine of the Eucha- 
rist 1 May the sacramental bread be made of meal of 
Indian corn ^. These and similar points of dispute filled 
the fort with wranglings, begetting cliques, fiictions, and 
feuds without number. Villegagnou took part with 
the student, and between them they devised a new doc- 
trine, abhorrent alike to Geneva and to Rome. The 
advent of this nondescript heresy was the signal of re- 
doubled strife.^ The dogmatic stiffness of the Geneva 
ministers chafed Villegagnou to fury. He felt himself, 
too, in a false position. On one side, he depended on 
the Protestant, Coligny ; on the other, he feared the 
Court. There were Catholics in the colony who might 
report him as an open heretic. On this point his 
doubts were set at rest; for a ship from France brought 
him a letter from the Cardinal of Lorraine, couched, it 
is said, in terms which restored him forthwith to the 
bosom of the Church. He affirmed that he had been 
deceived in Calvin, and pronounced him a "frightful 
heretic." He became despotic beyond measure, aiid 
would bear no opposition. The ministers, reduced 

1 Tlie history of these tlieological squabbles is given in detail in the 
Histoire des Glioses MemoraUes aduenncs en la Terre dii Bresil. Geneve, 1561 
The author was an eye-witness. De Lery also enlarges upon them. 
3 



QQ , VILLEGAGNON. [1567. 

nearly to starvation, found themselves under a tyranny 
worse than that from which they had fled. At length 
he drove them from the fort and forced them to bivouac 
on the main land, at the risk of being- butchered by 
Indians, until a vessel loading with Brazil wood in the 
harbor should be ready to carry them back to France. 
The ministers gone, he caused three of the more zeal- 
ous Calvinists to be seized, dragged to the edge of a 
rock, and thrown into the sea.^ A fourth, equally ob- 
noxious, but who, being a tailor, could ill be spared, was 
permitted to live on condition of recantation. Then, 
mustering the colonists, he warned them to shun the 
heresies of Luther and Calvin ; threatened that all who 
openly professed them should share the fate of their 
three comrades ; and, his harangue over, feasted the 
whole assembly, in token, says the narrator, of joy and 
triumph.^ 

Meanwhile, in their crazy vessel, the banished minis- 
ters drifted slowly on their way. Storms fell upon 
them, their provision failed, their water-casks were 
empty, and, tossing in the wilderness of waves, or rock- 
ing on the long swells of subsiding' gales, they sank 
wellnigh to despair. In their famine they chewed the 
Brazil wood with which the vessel was laden, devoured 
every scrap of leather, singed and ate the horn of lan- 
terns, hunted rats through the hold and sold them to 
each other at enormous prices. At length, stretched 

1 Ilhtvire des CJioses Me'morables, 44. 

2 lb. 46. Compare Nicholas Barre, Lettres sur la Navigation du Chevalier 
de Viileyaignon. Paris, 1558. 



1658.] THE (JOLONr RUINED, QTi 

on the deck, sick, listless, attenuated, scarcely able to 
move a limb, they descried across the waste of sea 
the faint, cloud-like line that marked the coast of Brit- 
tany. Their perils were not past ; for, if we may be- 
lieve one of them, Jean de Lery, they bore a sealed 
letter from Villegagnon to the magistrates of tlie first 
French port at which they might arrive. It denounced 
them as heretics, worthy to be burned. Happily the 
magistrates leaned to the Reform, and the malice of the 
commandant failed of its victims. 

Villegagnon himself soon sailed for France, leaving 
the wretched colony to its fate. His voyage ended, he 
entered the lists against Calvin, and engaged him in a 
hot controversial war, in which, according to some of his 
contemporaries, the knight often worsted the theologian 
at his own weapons. Before the year 1558 was closed, 
Ganabara fell a prey to the Portuguese. They set 
upon it in force, battered down the fort, and slew the 
feeble garrison, or drove them to a miserable refuge 
among the Indians. Spain and Portugal made good 
. their claim to the vast domain, the mighty vegetation, 
the undeveloped riches of "Antarctic France." 



CHAPTER III. 

1562, 1563. 
JEAN RIBAUT. 

I'rtE ITuGUENOT Party, its JIotley Character. — Ribaut sails for 
Florida. — The River of May. — Hopes. — Illusions. — Port Royai* 
— Ciiarlesfokt. — Frolic. — Improvidence. — Famine. — Mutiny. — 
Florida abandoned. — Desperation. — Cannibalism. 

In the year 1562 a cloud of black and deadly por- 
teiit was thickening- over France. Surely and swiftly 
she glided towards the abyss of the religious wars. 
None could pierce the future, perhaps none dared to 
contemplate it : the wild rage of fanaticism and hate, 
friend grappling with friend, brother with brother, fa- 
ther with son ; altars profaned, hearthstones made des- 
olace ; the robes of Justice herself bedrenched with 
murder. In the gloom without lay Spain, imminent 
and terrible. As on the hill by the field of Dreux, her 
veteran bands of pikemen, dark masses of organized 
ferocity, stood biding their time while the battle surged 
below, then swept downward to the slaughter, — so did 
Spain watch and wait to trample and crush the hope of 
humanity. 

In these days of fear, a second Huguenot colony 
sailed for the New World. The calm, stern man who 
represented and led the Protestantism of France felt to 
his inmost heart the peril of the time. He would fait 



1562.1 THE HUGUENOT PARTY. t^Q 

build up a city of refuge for the persecuted sect. Yet 
Gaspar de Coligny, too high in power and rank to be 
openly assailed, was forced to act with caution. He 
must act, toOj in the name of the Crown, and in virtue 
of his office of Admiral of France. A uoblenian and 
a soldier, — for the Admiral of France was no seaman, 
— he shared the ideas and habits of his class ; nor is 
there reason to believe him to have been in advance of 
his time in a knowledge of the principles of successful 
colonization. His scheme promised a military colony, 
not a free commonwealth. The Huguenot party was 
already a political, as well as a religious party. At 
its foundation lay the religious element, represented by 
Geneva, the martyrs, and the devoted fugitives who 
sang the psalms of Marot among rocks and caverns. 
Joined to these were numbers on whom the faith sat 
lightly, whose hope was in commotion and chano-e. 
Of the latter, in great part, was the Huguenot no- 
llesse^ from Conde, who aspired to the crown, 

" Ce petit homme tant joli, 
Qui toujours cliante, toujours rit," 

to the younger son of the impoverished seigneur whose 
patrimony was his sword. More than this, the rest- 
less, the factious, the discontented, began to link their 
fortunes to a party whose triumph would involve confis- 
cation of the wealth of the only rich class in France. 
An element of the great revolution was already min- 
gling in the strife of religions. 

America was still a land of wonder. The ancient 
spell still hung unbroken over the wild, vast world of 

3* 



30 JEAN RIBAUT. [1562. 

mystery beyond the sea, a land of romance, of ad- 
venture, of gold. 

Fifty-eig-ht years later the Puritans landed on tlie. 
sands of Massachusetts Bay. The illusion was gone, 
— the ignis-fatuus of adventure, the dream of wealth. 
The rugged wilderness offered only a stern and hard- 
won independence. In their own hearts, not in the 
promptings of- a great leader or the patronage of an 
equivocal government, their enterprise found its birth 
and its achievement. They were of the boldest, the 
most earnest of their sect. There were such among 
the French disciples of Calvin ; but no Mayflower ever 
sailed from a port of France. Coligny's colonists were 
of a different stamp, and widely different was their fate. 

An excellent seaman and stanch Protestant, Jean 
Ribaut of Dieppe, commanded the expedition. Under 
him, besides sailors, were a band of veteran soldiers, 
and a few young nobles. Embarked in two of those 
antiquated craft whose high poops and tub-like propor- 
tions are preserved in the old engravings of De Bry, 
they sailed from Havre on the eighteenth of February, 
156!2. They crossed the Atlantic, and on the thirtieth 
of April, in the latitude of twenty-nine and a half de- 
grees, saw the long, low line where the wilderness of 
waves met the wilderness of woods. It was the coast 
of Florida. Soon they descried a jutting point, which 
they called French Cape, perhaps one of the headlands 
of Matanzas Inlet. They turned their prows northward, 
skirting the fringes of that waste of verdure which 
rolled in shadowy undulation far to the unknown West. 



1562.] THE EIVER OF MA 7. 31 

On the next morning, the first of May, they found 
themselves off the mouth of a great river. Riding at 
anchor on a sunny sea, they lowered their boats, crossed 
the bar that obstructed the entrance, and floated on a 
basin of deep and sheltered water, alive with leaping 
fish. Indians were running along the beach and out 
upon the sand-bars, beckoning' them to land. They 
pushed their boats ashore and disembarked, ^ — sailors, 
soldiers, and eager young nobles. Corselet and morion, 
arquebuse and halberd, flashed in the sun that flickei^ed 
through innumerable leaves, as, kneeling on the ground, 
they gave thanks to God who had guided their voyage 
to an issue full of promise. The Indians, seated gravely 
under the neighboring trees, looked on in silent respect, 
thinking that they worshipped the sun. They were in 
full paint, in honor of the occasion, and in a most 
friendly mood. With their squaws and children, they 
presently drew near, and, strewing the earth with laurel- 
boughs, sat down among the Frenchmen. The latter 
were . much pleased with them, and Ribaut gave the 
chief, whom he calls the king, a robe of blue cloth, 
worked in yellow^ with the regal fleur-de-lis. 

But Ribaut and his followers, just escaped from the 
dull prison of their ships, were intent on admiring the 
wild scenes around them. Never had they known a 
fairer May-Day. The quaint old. narrative is exuberant 
with delight. The tranquil air, the warm son, woods 
fresh with young verdure, meadows bright with flowers ; 
the palm, the cypress, the pine, the magnolia ; the graz- 
ing deer ; herons, curlews, bitterns, woodcock, aod im 



g£ JEAN RIBAUT. 11562. 

known water-fowl that waded in the ripple of the heach ; 
cedars bearded from crown to root with long-, gray moss ; 
huge oaks smothering in the serpent folds of enorujous 
grape-vines : such were the objects that greeted them in 
their roamings, till their new-discovered land seemed 
" the fairest, fruitfullest, and pleasantest of al the world." 

They found a tree covered with caterpillars, and here- 
upon the ancient black-letter says, — "Also there be 
Silke wormes in meruielous number, a great deale fairer 
and better then be our silk wormes. To bee short, it 
is a thing vnspeakable to consider the thinges that bee 
seene there, and shalbe founde more and more in this 
incomperable laude."-^ 

Above all, it was plain to their excited fancy, that the 
country was rich in gold and silver, turquoises and 
pearls. One of the latter, " as great as an Acorne at 
y® least," hung from the neck of an Indian who stood 
near their boats as thej'- reembarked. They gathered^ 
too, from the signs of their savage visitors, that the 
wonderful land of Cibola, with its seven cities a,nd its 
untold riches, was distant but twenty days' journey by 
water. In truth, it was on the Gila, two thousand 
miles off, and its wealth a fable. 

They named the river the River of May, — it is 

1 The True and Last Discuverie of Florida, made hi/ Captain John Ribaitlf, 
in the yeere 1562, dedicated to a great Nobleman in Fraiuice, and translated 
into Enijhshe by one Thomas Hackit. This is Ribaut's journal, whicli 
seems not to exist in the original. The translation is contained in the 
rare black-lotter tract of Ilakluyt called Divers Voyages, London, 15S2, 
a copy of which is in the library of Harvard College. It has been reprinted 
by the Ilakluyt Society. The journal first appeared in 1563, under the 
title of The Whole and True Discoverie of Terra Florida, (Englished The 
Florishing Land.) This edition is of extreme rarity. 



1562.] PORT ROYAL. 33 

now the St. John's, — and on its southern shore, near 
its moutli, they planted a stone pillar engraved with the 
arms of" France. Then, once more embarked, they held 
their course northward, happy in that benign decree 
which locks from mortal eyes the secrets of the future. 

Next they anchored near Fernandina, and to a neigh- 
boring river, probably the St. Mary's, gave the name of 
the Seine. Here, as morning broke on the fresh, moist 
meadows hung with mists, and on broad reaches of in- 
land waters which seemed like lakes, they were tempted 
to laud again, and soon " espied an innumerable number 
of footesteps of great Hartes and Hindes of a wonderfull 
groatnesse, the steppes being all fresh and new, and it 
seemeth that the people doe nourish them like tame Cat- 
tell." By two or three weeks of exploration they seem 
to have gained a clear idea of this rich semi-aquatic 
region. Ribaut describes it as "a countrie full of hauens 
riuers and Hands of such fruitfulnes, as cannot with 
tongue be expressed." Slowly moving northward, they 
named each river, or inlet supposed to be a river, after 
the streams of France, — the Loire, the Charente, the 
Garonne, the Gironde. At length, they reached a 
scene made glorious in after-years. Opening betwixt 
flat and sandy shores, they saw a commodious haven, 
and named it Port Royal. 

On the twenty-seventh of May they crossed the bar, 
where the war-ships of Dupont crossed three hundred 
years later. ^ They passed Hilton Head, where in 

1 The following is tlie record of this early visit to Port Royal, taken 
from Ribaut's report to Coligny : — 
"And when wee had sounded the entrie of the Chanell (thanked be 



34i JEAN RIBAUT. 11562. 

an after-generation Rebel batteries belched their vain 
thunder, and, dreaming nothing of what the roll- 
ing centuries should bring forth, held their course 
along the peaceful bosom of Broad River. On the 
left the\' saw a stream which they named Libourne, 
probably Skull Creek ; on the right, a wade river, 
probably the Beaufort. When they landed, all was 
solitude. The frightened. Indians had fled, but they 
lured them back with knives, beads, and looking- 
glasses, and enticed two of them on board their ships. 
Here, by feeding, clothing, and caressing them, they 
tried to wean them from their fears ; but the captive 
warriors moaned and lamented day and night, till 
Ribaut, with the prudence and humanity which seem 
always to have characterized him, gave over his purpose 
of carrying them to France, and set them ashore again. 
Ranging the woods, they found them full of game, 
wild turkeys and partridges, bears and lynxes. Two 
deer, of unusual size, leaped up from the underbrush. 
Cross-bow and arquebuse were brought to the level ; but 
the Huguenot captain, " moved with the singular fair- 
ness and bigness of them," forbade his men to shoot. 

God), wee entered safely therein with our shippes, against the opinion of 
many, finding tlie same one of the favrest and greatest Hauens of the 
worldc. Howe be it, it must be remembred, least men approaching neare 
it within seven leagues of the lande, bee abashed and afraide on tlie Easi 
side, drawing towai'de the Southeast, the grounde to be flatte, for neuerthe- 
lesse at a full sea, there is euery where foure fedome water keeping the 
right Chanel." 

Eibaut thinks that the Broad Eiver of Port Royal is the Jordan of the 
Spanish navigator Vasquez de Ayllon, who was here in 1520, and gave 
tlie name of St. Helena to a neighboring cape (Garcilaso,F/o?-('o'rt del Lira) 
The adjacent district, now called St. Helena, is the Chicora of the oW 
Sijanis'i iiwix 



1S62.1 CHAELESFORT. 33 

Preliminary exploration, not immediate settlement, 
had been the object of the voyage ; but all was still rose- 
color in the eyes of the voyagers, and many of their 
number would fain linger in the New Canaan. Ribaut 
was more than willing to humor them. He mustered 
his company on deck, and made them a stirring ha- 
rangue. He appealed to their courage and their pa- 
triotism, told them how, from a mean origin, men rise 
by enterprise and daring to fame and fortune, and 
demanded who among thenji would stay behind and 
hold Port Royal for the King. The greater part came 
forward, and ''• with such a good will and joly corage," 
writes the commander, " as we had much to do to stay 
their importunitie." Thirty were chosen, and Albert 
de Pierria was named to command them. 

A fort was forthwith begun, on a small stream called 
the Chenonceau, probably Archer's Creek, about six 
miles from the site of Beaufort. They named it Charles- 
fort, in honor of the unhappy son of Catherine de Medi- 
cis, Charles the Ninth, the future hero of St. Bartholo- 
mew. Ammunition and stores were sent on shore, and, 
on the eleventh of June, with his diminished company, 
Ribaut, again embarking, spread his sails for France. 

From the beach at Hilton Head, Albert and his com- 
panions might watch the receding ships, growing less 
and less on the vast expanse of blue, dwindling to faint 
specks, then vanishing on the pale verge of the waters. 
They were alone in those fearful solitudes. From the 
North Pole to Mexico there vvas no Christian denizen 
but they. 



35 JEAN EIBAUT. [1561 

But how were they to subsist"? Their thought was not 
of subsistence, but of gold. Of the thirty, the greater 
number were soldiers and sailors, with a few gentlemen, 
that is to say, men of the sword, t)orn within the pale 
of nobility, who at home could neither labor nor trade 
without derogation from their rank. For a time they 
busied themselves with finishing their fort, and, this 
done, set forth in quest of adventures. 

The Indians had lost fear of them. Ribaut had 
enjoined upon them to use all kindness and gentleness 
in their dealing with the men of the woods ; and they 
more than obeyed him. They were soon hand and glove 
with chiefs, warriors, and squaws ; and as with Indians 
the adage, that familiarity breeds contempt, holds with 
peculiar force, they quickly divested themselves of the 
prestige which had attached at the outset to their sup- 
posed character of children of the Sun. Good-will, 
however, remained, and this the colonists abused to the 
utmost. 

Koaming by river, swamp, and forest, they visited in 
turn the villages of five petty chiefs, whom they called 
kings, feasting everywhere on hominy, beans, and game, 
and loaded with gifts. One of these chiefs, named 
Audusta, invited them to the grand religious festival of 
his tribe. Thither, accordingly, they went. The vil- 
lage was alive with preparation, and troops of women 
were busied in sweeping the great circular area, where 
the ceremonies were to take place. But as the noisy 
and impertinent guests showed a disposition to undue 
merriment, the chief shut them all in his wigwam, lest 



1562.^ EXCURSIONS. — FROLICS. g^ 

their Gentile eyes should profane the mysteries. Here, 
immured in darkness, they listened to the howls, yelp- 
ings, and lugubrious songs that resounded from with- 
out. One of them, however, by some artifice, con- 
trived to escape, hid behind a bush, and saw the whole 
solemnity : the procession of the medicine-men and the 
bedaubed and bofeathered warriors ; the drumming, the 
dancing, the stamping; the wild lamentation of the 
women, as they gashed the arms of the young girls 
with sharp mussel-shells and flung the blood into the 
air with dismal outcries. A scene of ravenous feast- 
ing followed, in which the French, released from dur- 
ance, were summoned to share. 

Their carousal over, they returned to Charlesfort, 
where they were soon pinched with hunger. The In- 
dians, never niggardly of food, brought them supplies 
as long as their own lasted; but the harvest was not 
yet ripe, and their means did not match their good-will. 
They told the French of two other kings, Ouade 
and Couexis, who dwelt towards the South, and were 
rich beyond belief in maize, beans, and squashes. Em- 
barking without delay, the mendicant colonists steered 
for the wigwams of these potentates, not by the open 
sea, but by a perplexing inland navigation, including, 
as it seems, Calibogue Sound and neighboring waters. 
Arrived at the friendly villages, on or near the Savan- 
nah, they were feasted to repletion, and their boat was 
laden with vegetables and corn. They returned re- 
joicing ; but their joy was short. Their storehouse at 
Charlesfort, taking fire in the night, burned to the 

4 



gg JEAN EIBAUT. [1562. 

ground, and with it their newly acquired stock. Once 
more they set forth for the realms of King- Ouade, and 
once more returned laden with supplies. Nay, the gen- 
erous savage assured them, that, so long as his corn- 
jields yielded their harvests, his friends should not want. 
How long this friendship would have lasted may well 
be matter of doubt. With the perception that the de- 
pendants on their bounty were no demigods, but a crew 
of idle and helpless beggars, respect would . soon have 
changed to contempt and contempt to ill-will. But it 
was not to Indian war.-clubs that the embryo colony was 
to owe its ruin. Within itself it carried its own de- 
struction. The ill-assorted band of landsmen and sail- 
ors, surrounded by that influence of the wilderness 
which wakens the dormant savage in the breasts of 
men, scon fell into quarrels. Albert, a rude soldier, 
with a thousand leagues of ocean betwixt him and re- 
sponsibility, grew harsh, domineering, and violent be- 
yond endurance. None could question or oppose him 
without peril of death. He hanged a drummer who 
had fallen under his displeasure, and banished La Chere, 
a soldier, to a solitary island, three leagues from the 
fort, where he left him to starve. For a time his com- 
rades chafed in smothered fury. The crisis came at 
length. A few of the fiercer spirits leagued together, 
assailed their tvrant, and murdered him. The deed 
done, and the famished soldier delivered, they called to 
the command one Nicholas Barre, a man of merit. 
Barre took the command, and thenceforth there was 
peace. 



1563.] A VESSEL BUILT. 39 

Peace, such as it was, with famine, homesickness, 
disgust. The rough ramparts and rude buildings of 
Charlesfort, hatefully familiar to their weary eyes, the 
sweltering forest, the glassy river, the eternal silence of 
the lifeless wilds around them, oppressed the senses 
and the spirits. Did they feel themselves the pioneers 
of religious freedom, the advance-guard of civilization 1 
Not at all. They dreamed of ease, of home, of pleas- 
ures across the sea, — of the evening cup on the bench 
before the cabaret, of dances with kind damsels of 
Dieppe. But how to escape ? A continent was their 
solitary prison, and the pitiless Atlantic closed the 
egress. Not one of them knew how to build a ship ; 
but Ribaut had left them a forge, with tools and iron, 
and strong. desire supplied the place of skill. Trees 
were hewn down and the work begun. Had they put 
forth, to maintain themselves at Port Royal, the energy 
and resource which they exerted to escape from it, tliey 
might have laid the corner-stone of a solid colony, 

All, gentle and simple, labored with equal zeal. They 
calked the seams with the long moss which hung in 
profusion from the neighboring trees ; the pines sup- 
plied them with pitch ; the Indians made for them a 
kind of cordage ; and for sails they sewed together 
their shirts and bedding. At length a brigantine worthy 
of Robinson Crusoe floated on the waters of the Chenon- 
ceau. They laid in what provision they might, gave 
all that remained of their goods to the delighted In- 
dians, embarked, descended the river, and put to sea. 
A fair wind filled their patchwork sails and bore them 



40 JEAN RIBAUT. [1563. 

from the hated coast. Day after day they held their 
course, till at length the favoring breeze died away and 
a breathless calm fell on the face of the waters. Florida 
was far behind ; France farther yet before. Floating 
idly on the glassy waste, the craft lay motionless. Their 
supplies gave out. Twelve kernels of maize a day 
were each man's portion ; then the maize failed, and 
they ate their shoes and leather jerkins. The water- 
barrels were drained, and they tried to slake their thirst 
with brine. Several died, and the rest, giddy with ex- 
haustion and crazed with thirst, were forced to ceaseless 
labor, baling out the water that gushed through every 
seam. Head-winds set in, increasing to a gale, and 
the wretched brigantine, her sails close-reefed, tossed 
among the savage billows at the mercy of the storm. 
A heavy sea rolled down upon her, and threw her on 
her side. The surges broke over her, and, clinging 
with desperate gripe to spars and cordage, the drenched 
voyagers gave up all for lost. At length she righted. 
The gale subsided, the wind changed, and the crazy, 
water-logged vessel again bore slowly towards France. 
Gnawed with deadly famine, they counted the leagues 
of barren ocean that still stretched before. With hag- 
gard, wolfish eyes they gazed on each other, till a whis- 
per passed from man to man, that one, by his death, 
might ransom all the rest. The choice was made. It 
fell on La Chere, the same wretched man whom Albert 
had doomed to starvation on a lonely island, and whose 
mind was burdened with the fresh men)ories of his an- 
guish and despair. They killed him, and with ravenous 



1563.] CANNIBALISM. 41 

avidity portioned out his flesh. The hideous rej3ast sus- 
tained them till the French coast rose in sight, when, 
it is said, in a delirium of joy, they could no longer 
steer their vessel, but let her drift at the will of the 
tide. A small English bark bore down upon them, 
took them all on board, and, after landing the feeblest, 
carried the rest prisoners to Queen Elizabeth.^ 

Thus closed another of those scenes of woe whose 
lurid clouds were thickly piled around the stormy dawn 
of American history. 

It was but the opening act of a wild and tragic 
drama. A tempest of miseries awaited those who es- 
sayed to plant the banners of France and of Calvin in 
the Southern forests ; and the bloody scenes of the 
religious war were acted in epitome on the shores of 
Florida. 

1 For all the latter part of the chapter, the authority is the first of the 
three long letters of Rene de Laudonniere, companion of Ribaut and his 
successor in command. They are contained in the Histoire Notable de la 
Floride, compiled hj Basanier, Paris,. 1586, and are also to be found, 
quaintly " d me into English," in the third volume of Hakluyt's great col- 
lection. In the main, they are entitled to much confidence 
4* 



CHAPTER IV. 

1564. 

LAUDONMERE. 

The New Colony. — Satoueiona. — The Promised Land. — Miraculous 
Longevity. — Fort Caroline. — Native Tribes. — Ottigny ex- 
plores THE St. John's. — The Thimagoa. — Conflicting Alliances. 
— Indian War. — Diplomacy of Laudonniere. — Vasseur's Expf- 

DITION. 

On the twenty-fifth of June, 1564, a French squad- 
ron anchored a second time off' the mouth of the River 
of May. There were three vessels, the smallest of sixty 
tons, the largest of one hundred and twenty, all crowded 
with men. Rene de Laudonniere held command. He 
was of a noble race of Poitou, attached to the House 
of Chatillon, of which Coligny was the head ; pious, 
we are told, and an excellent uiarine officer. An en- 
graving, purporting to be his likeness, shows us a slen- 
der figure, leaning against the mast, booted to the 
thigh, with slouched hat and plume, slashed doublet, 
and short cloak. His thin oval face, with curled mous- 
tache and close-trimmed beard, wears a somewhat pen- 
sive look, as if already shadowed by the destiny that 
awaited him.^ 

The intervening year since Ribaut's voyage had been 
a dark and deadly year for France. From the peaceful 

1 See Guerin, Navigateurs Francais, 180. The authenticity of the por* 
trait is doubtful. 



1564.] THE NEW COLONY. 43 

solitude of the River of May, that voyager returned to 
a land reeking- with slaughter. But the carnival of 
bigotry and hate had found a pause. The Peace of 
Amboise had been signed. The fierce monk choked 
down his venom ; the soldier sheathed his sword, the 
assassin his dagger ; rival chiefs grasped hands, and 
masked their rancor under hollow smiles. The king* 
and the queen-mother, helpless amid the storm of fac- 
tions which threatened their destruction, smiled now on 
Conde, now on Guise, — gave ear to the Cardinal of 
Lorraine, or listened in secret to the emissaries of The- 
odore Beza. Coligny was again strong at Court. He 
used his opportunity, and solicited with success the 
means of renewing his enterprise of colonization. With 
pains and zeal, men were mustered for the work. In 
name, at least, they were all Huguenots ; yet again, as 
before, the staple of the projected colony was unsound : 
soldiers, paid out of the royal treasury, hired artisans 
and tradesmen, with a swarm of volunteers from the 
young Huguenot noblesse^ whose restless swords had 
rusted in their scabbards since the peace. The foun- 
dation-stone was forgotten. There were no tillers of 
the soil. Such, indeed, were rare amonof the Huoue- 
nots ; for the dull peasants who guided the plough 
clung with blind tenacity to the ancient faith. Adven- 
turous gentlemen, reckless soldiers, discontented trades- 
men, all keen for novelty and heated with dreams of 
wealth, — these were they who would build for their 
country and their religion an empire beyond the sea.^ 

1 The principal authorities for this part of the narrative are Laudon- 



44. LAUDONNIERE. 'mi. 

With a few officers and twelve soldiers, Laudomiiere 
landed where Ribaut had landed before him ; and as 
their boat neared the shore, they saw an Indian chief 
who ran to meet them, whooping and clamoring welcome 
from afar. It was Satouriona, the savage potentate 
who ruled some thirty villages around the lower St. 
John's and northward along the coast. With him came 
two stalwart sons, and behind trooped a host of tribes- 
men arrayed in smoke-tanned deerskins stained with 
devices in gaudy colors. They crowded around the 
voyagers with beaming visages and yelps of gratula- 
tion. The royal Satouriona could not contain the exu- 
berance of his joy, since in the person of the French 
commander he recognized the brother of the Sun, de- 
scended from the skies to aid him against his great 
rival, Outina. 

Hard by stood the column of stone, engraved with 
the fleur-de-lis, planted here on the former voyage. The 
Indians had crowned the mystic emblem with ever- 
greens, and placed oiFerings of maize on the ground 
before it ; for with an affectionate and reverent wonder 
they had ever remembered the steel-clad strangers 

niere ami his artist, Le Moyne. Laudonniere's letters were publislied in 
1586, under the title L'Histoire Notable de la Floride, mise en lumiere par M. 
Basanier, See also Hakluyt's Voijages, III. (1812). Le Moyne was em- 
ployed to make maps and drawings of the country. His maps are cu- 
riously inexact. His drawings are spirited, and, witli many allowances, 
give useful hints concerning tlie liabits of the natives. Tliey are en- 
graved in tlie Grands Voyages of De Bry, Part II. (Frankfort, 1591). To 
each is appended a " declaratio " or explanatory remarks. The same 
worlc contains tlie artist's personal narrative, tlie Brev'ts Narratio. In the 
Recueil de Pieces sur la Floride of Ternaux-Compans is a letter from one of 
the adventurers. 



1664.". THE PROMISED LAND. 45 

whom, two summers before, Jean Ribaut had led to 
their shores. 

Five miles up the St. John's, or River of May, there 
stands, on the southern bank, a hill some forty feet 
high, boldly thrusting- itself into the broad and lazy 
waters. It is now called St. John's Blujff".-^ Thither 
the Frenchmen repaired, pushed through the dense 
forest, and climbed the steep acclivity. Thence they 
surveyed their Canaan. Beneath them moved the 
unruffled river, gUding around the reed-grown shores 
of marshy islands, the haunt of alligators, and along 
the bordering expanse of wide, wet meadows, studded 
with island - like clumps of pine and palmetto, and 
bounded by the sunny verge of distant forests. Far 
on their right, seen by glimpses between the shaggy 
cedar - boughs, the glistening sea lay stretched along 
the horizon. Before, in hazy distance, the softened 
green of the woodlands was veined with mazes of 
countless interlacing streams that drain the watery 
region behind St. Mary's and Fernandina. To the 
left, the St. John's flowed gleaming betwixt verdant 
shores, beyond whose portals lay the El Dorado of their 
dreams. " Briefly," writes Laudonniere, " the place is 
so pleasant, that those which are melancholicke would 
be inforced to change their humour."^ 

A fresh surprise awaited them. The allotted span 
of mortal life was quadrupled in that benign climate. 
Laudonniere's lieutenant, Ottigny, rangi'ig the neigh- 

1 For the locality, see V. S. Coast Survey, 1856, Map 27. 

2 Translation in Hakluyt, III. 389 ; Basanier, fol. 41. 



46 LAUDONNIEEE. [1564. 

boring forest with a party of soldiers, met a troop of 
Indians who invited him to their dwelhngs. Mounted 
on the back of a stout savage, who plunged with him 
through the deep marshes, and guided him by devious 
pathways through the tangled thickets, he arrived at 
length, and beheld a wondrous spectacle. In the lodge 
sat a venerable chief, who assured him that he was the 
father of five successive generations, and that he had lived 
two hundred and fifty years. Opposite sat a still more 
ancient veteran, the* father of the first, shrunken to a 
mere anatomy, and " seeming to be rather a dead car- 
keis than a living body." " Also," pursues the history, 
" his age was so great that the good man had lost his 
sight, and could not speak one onely word but with ex- 
ceeding great paine."^ Despite his dismal condition, 
the visitor was told that he might expect to live, in the 
course of Nature, thirty or forty years more. As the 
two patriarchs sat face to face, half hidden with their 
streaming white hair, Ottigny and his credulous soldiers 
looked from one to the other, lost in speechless admira- 
tion. 

Man and Nature alike seemed to mark the borders 
of the River of May as the site of the new colony; 
for here, around the Indian towns, the harvests of 
maize, beans, and pumpkins promised abundant food, 
while the river opened a ready way to the mines of gold 
and silver and the stores of barbaric wealth which glit- 
tered before the dreaming vision of the colonists. Yet, 

1 Laudonniere in Hakluyt, III. 388 ; Basanier, fol. 40 ; Coppie d'une LeU 
tre venant de la Moi-ide, in Ternaiix-Compans, Floride, 233. 



1564.] rORT CAROLINE. 4,nr 

the better to content himself and his men, Laudonniere 
weighed anchor, and sailed for a time along the neigh- 
boring coasts. Returning, confirmed in his first im- 
pression, he set forth with a party of officers and sol- 
diers to explore the borders of the chosen stream. The 
day was hot. The sun beat fiercely on the woollen 
caps and heavy doublets of the men, till at length they 
gained the shade of one of those deep forests of pine 
where the dead, hot air is thick with resinous odors, and 
the earth, carpeted with fallen leaves, gives no sound 
beneath the foot. Yet, in the stillness, deer leaped up 
on all sides as they moved along. Then they emerged 
into sunlight. A broad meadow was before them, a 
running brook, and a lofty wall of encircling forests. 
The men called it the Vale of Laudonniere. The after- 
noon was spent, and the sun was near its setting, when 
they reached the bank of the river. They strewed the 
ground with boughs and leaves, and, stretched on that 
sylvan couch, slept the sleep of travel-worn and weary 
men. 

At daybreak they were roused by sound of trumpet. 
Men and officers joined their voices in a psalm, then 
betook themselves to their task. It was the building 
of a fort, and this was the chosen spot, a tract of dry 
ground on the brink of the river, immediately above St. 
John's Bluff. On the right was the bluff"; on the left, 
a marsh ; in front, the river ; behind, the forest. 

Boats came up the stream with laborers, tents, pro- 
vision, cannon, and tools. The engineers marked out 
the work in the form of a triangle ; and, from the no- 



48 LAUDONNi:&RE. [1564. 

ble volunteer to the meanest artisan, all lent a hand to 
complete it. On the river side the defences were a pal- 
isade of timber. On the two other sides were a ditch, 
and a rampart of fascines, earth, and sods. At each 
angle was a bastion, in one of which was the magazine. 
Within was a spacious parade, and around it various 
buildings for lodging and storage. A large house with 
covered galleries was built on the side towards the river 
for Laudonniere and his officers. In honor of Charles 
the Ninth the fort was named Fort Caroline. 

Meanwhile Satouriona, " lord of all that country," 
as the narratives style him, was seized with misgivings 
on learning these mighty preparations. The work was 
scarcely begun, and all was din and confusion around 
the incipient fort, when the startled Frenchmen saw 
the neighboring height of St. John's swarming with 
naked warriors. Laudonniere set his men in array, 
and, for a season, pick and spade were dropped for 
arquebuse and pike. The savage chief descended 
to the camp. The artist Le Moyne, who saw him, 
drew his likeness from memory, — a tall, athletic fig- 
ure, tattooed in token of his rank, plumed, bedecked 
with strings of beads, and girdled with tinkling pieces 
of metal which hung from the belt, his only gar- 
oient.^ He came in regal state, a crowd of warriors 
around him, and, in advance, a troup of young Indians 
irmed with spears. Twenty musicians followed, blow- 
ng hideous discord through pipes of reeds. Arrived, 
16 seated himself on the ground " like a monkey," as 
1 Le Moyne, Tabulae VIII. XI. 



1564.] NATIVE TRIBES. 49 

Le Moyno has it In the grave Latin of his Brevis 
Narratio. A council followed, in which broken words 
were aided by signs and pantomime. A treaty of alli- 
ance was made, and Laudonniere had the folly to prom- 
ise the chief that he would lend him aid ag-ainst his 
enemies. Satouriona, well pleased, ordered his Indians 
to aid the French in their work. They obeyed with 
alacrity, and in two days the buildings of the fort were 
all thatched, after the native fashion, with leaves of the 
palmetto. 

A word touching these savages. In the peninsula 
of Florida were several distinct Indian confederacies, 
with three of which the French were brought into con- 
tact. The first was that of Satouriona. The next was 
the potent confederacy of the people called the Thima- 
goa, under their chief Outina, whose forty villages were 
scattered among the lakes and forests around the upper 
waters of this remarkable river. The third was that of 
"King Potanou," whose domain lay among the pine- 
barrens, cypress-swamps, and fertile hummocks, west- 
ward and northwestward of the St. John's. The three 
communities were at deadly enmity. Their social state 
was more advanced than that of the wandering hunter- 
tribes of the North. They were an agricultural people. 
Around all their villages were fields of maize, beans, 
and pumpkins. The harvest, due chiefly to the labor 
of the women, was gathered into a public granary, and 
on it they lived during three fourths of the year, dis- 
persing in winter to hunt among the forests. 

Their villages were clusters of huts, thatched with 



50 LAUDONNIl^RE. [1564. 

palmetto. In the midst was the dwelling of the chief, 
much larger than the rest, and sometimes raised on an 
artificial mound. They were enclosed with palisades, 
and, strange to say, some of them were approached by 
wide avenues, artificially graded, and several hundred 
yards in length. Traces of them may still be seen, 
as may also the mounds in which the Floridians, like 
the Hurons and various other tribes, collected at stated 
intervals the bones of their dead. 

The most prominent feature of their religion was 
sun-worship, and, like other wild American tribes, they 
abounded in " medicine-men," who combined the func- 
tions of physician and necromancer. 

Social distinctions were sharply defined among them. 
Their chiefs, whose office was hereditary, sometimes 
exercised a power almost absolute. Each village had 
its chief, subordinate to the grand chief of the nation. 
In the language of the French narratives, they were 
all kings or lords, vassals of the great monarch Sa- 
touriona, Outina, or Potanou. All these tribes are now 
extinct, and it is difficult to ascertain with precision 
their tribal affinities. There can be no doubt that they 
were the authors of the aboriginal remains at present 
found in various parts of Florida. 
• Their fort nearly fiinished, and their league made with 
Satouriona, the gold-hunting Huguenots w^ere eager to 
spy out the secrets of the interior. To this end the 
lieutenant, Ottigny, went up the river in a sail-boat. 
With him were a few soldiers and two Indians, the 
latter going forth, says Laudonniere, as if bound to a 



1564.] OTTIGNY'S VOYAGE. ^j 

wedding-, keen for a figlit with the hated Thimagoa, and 
exalting in the havoc to be wrought among them by the 
magic weapons of their white alhes. They were doomed 
to grievous disappointment. 

The Sieur d'Ottigny spread his sail, and calmly 
glided up the dark waters of the St. John's, a scene 
fraught with strange interest to. the naturalist and the 
lover of Nature. Here, two centuries later, the Bar- 
trams, father and son, guided their skiff and kindled 
their nightly bivouac-fire ; and here, too, roamed Audu- 
bon, with his sketch-book and his gun. Each alike has 
left the record of his wanderings, fresh as the woods 
and waters that inspired it.^ Slight was then the 
change since Ottigny, first of white men, steered his 
bark over the still breast of the virgin river. Before 
hinr, like a lake, the redundant waters spread far and 
wide; and along the low shores, on jutting points, 
or the margin of deep and sheltered coves, towered 
wild, majestic forms of vegetable beauty. Here rose 
the magnolia, high above surrounding woods ; but the 
flowers had fallen, that a few wrecks earlier studded 
the verdant dome with silver. From the edge of the 
bordering swamp the cypress reared its vast but- 
tressed column and leafy canopy. From the rugged 
arms of oak and pine streamed the gray drapery 

1 John Bartram visited Florida after the cession of 1763, with his son, 
William. His Descri/ition of East Florida (Lond. 1766) is the record of 
his journey. William Bartram was here again fifteen years later. His 
Travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida, 
etc. (Phil. 1791-4,) is the work of a close and enthusiastic student of Na- 
ture. Auduhon's sketches of Floridian scenes, with other similar papers, 
are interspersed through the first edition of his Ornithology, but omitted 
in the later editions 



^Q LAUDONNIERE. fl564. 

of tlie long Spanish moss, swayed mournfully by the 
faintest breeze. Here were the tropical plumage of the 
palm, the dark green masses of the live-oak, the glis- 
tening verdure of wild orange-groves ; and from out 
the shadowy thickets hung the wreaths of the jessamine 
and the scarlet trumpets of the bignonia. 

Nor less did the fruitful river teem with varied forms 
of animal life. From caverns of leafy shade came 
the gleam and flicker of many-colored plumage. The 
cormorant, the pelican, the heron, floated on the water, 
or stalked along its pebbly brink. Among the sedges, 
the alligator, foul from his native mud, outstretched his 
hideous length, or, sluggish and sullen, drifted past the 
boat, his grim head level with the surface, and each 
scale, each folding of his horny hide, distinctly visible, 
as, with the slow movement of distended paws, he bal- 
anced himself in the water. When, at sunset, they 
drew up their boat on the strand, and built their camp- 
fire under the arches of the woods, the shores resounded 
with the roaring of these colossal lizards ; all night the 
forest rang with the whooping of the owls ; and in the 
morning the sultry mists that wrapped the river were 
vocal, far and near, with the clamor of wild turkeys. 

Among such scenes, for twenty leagues, the adventu- 
rous sail moved on. Far to the right, beyond the silent 
waste of pines, lay the realm of the mighty Potanou. 
The Thimagoa towns were still above them on the river, 
when they saw three canoes of this people at no great 
distance in front. Forthwith the two Indians in the 
boat were fevered with excitement. With glittering 



15G4.] THE THIMAGOA. 53 

eyes they snatched pike and sword, and prepared for 
fight ; but the sage Ottigny, bearing slowly down on 
the strangers, gave them time to paddle ashore and 
escape to the woods. Then, landing", he approached 
the canoes, placed in them a few trinkets, and withdrew 
to a distance. The fugitives took heart, and, step by 
step, returned. An intercourse was opened, with as- 
surances of friendship on the part of the French, 
a procedure viewed by Satouriona's Indians with un- 
speakable disgust. 

The ice thus broken, Ottigny returned to Fort Car- 
oline ; and, a fortnight later, an officer named Vasseur 
sailed up the river to pursue the adventure : for the 
French, thinking that the nation of the Thimagoa lay 
betwixt them and the gold-mines, would by no means 
quarrel with them, and Laudonniere repented already 
of his rash pledge to Satouriona. 

As Vasseur moved on, two Indians hailed him from 
the shore, inviting him to their dwellings. He accepted 
their guidance, and presently saw before him the corn- 
fields and palisades of an Indian town. Led through 
the wondering crowd to the lodge of Mollua, the. chief, 
Vasseur and his followers were seated in the place of 
honor, and plentifully regaled with fish and bread. The 
repast over, Mollua began his discourse. He told them 
that he was one of the forty vassal chiefs of the great 
Outina, lord of all the Thimagoa, whose warriors wore 
armor of gold and silver plate. He told them, too, of 
Potanou, his enemy, a mighty and redoubted prince ; 
and of the two kings of the distant Appalachian Moun- 
5* 



54. LAUDONNlfeEE. [1564. 

tains, rich beyond utterance in gems and gold. While 
thus, with earnest pantomime and broken words, the 
chief discoursed with his guests, Vasseur, intent and 
eager, strove to follow his meaning ; and, no sooner did 
he hear, of these Appalachian treasures, than he prom- 
ised to join Outina in war against the two potentates 
of the mountains. The sagacious Mollua, well pleased, 
promised that each of Outina's vassal chiefs should re- 
quite their French allies with a heap of gold and silver 
two feet high. Thus, while Laudonniere stood pledged 
to Satouriona, Vasseur made alliance with his mortal 
enemy. 

Returning, he was met, near the fort, by one of Sa- 
touriona's chiefs, who questioned him touching his deal- 
ings with the Thimagoa. Vasseur replied that he had 
set upon and routed them with incredible slaughter. 
But as the chief, seeming as yet unsatisfied, continued 
his inquiries, the sergeant, Francois de la Caille, drew 
his sword, and, like Falstaff before him, reenacted his 
deeds of valor, pursuing and thrusting at the imagi- 
nary Thimagoa, as they fled before his fury. The chief, 
at length convinced, led the party to his lodge, and en- 
tertained them with a certain savory decoction with 
which the Indians were wont to regale those whom 
they delighted to honor.^ 

Elated at the promise of a French alliance, Satouriona 
had summoned his vassal chiefs to war. From the St. 
Mary's and the Santilla and the distant Altamaha, from 
every quarter of his woodland realm, they had mustered 

1 Laudonniere in Hakluyt, IIT. 394 



1564,] INDIAN WAR. 55 

at his call. Along the margin of the St. John's, the for- 
est was alive with their bivouacs. Here were ten chiefs 
and some five hundred men. And now, when all was 
ready, Satouriona reminded Laudonniere of his promise, 
and claimed its fulfilment ; but the latter gave evasive 
answers and a virtual refusal. Stifling his rage, the 
chief prepared to go without him. 

Near the bank of the river, a fire was kindled, and 
two large vessels of water were placed beside it. Here 
Satouriona took his stand. His chiefs crouched on the 
grass around him, and the savage visages of his five 
hundred warriors filled the outer circle, their long hair 
garnished with feathers, or covered with the heads and 
skins of wolves, panthers, bears, or eagles. Satouriona, 
looking towards the country of his enemy, distorted his 
features into a wild expression of rage and hate ; then 
muttered to himself; then howled an invocation to his 
god, the Sun ; then besprinkled the assembly with wa- 
ter from one of the vessels, and, turning the other upon 
the fire, suddenly quenched it. " So," he cried, " may 
the blood of our enemies be poured out, and their lives 
extinguished ! " and the concourse gave forth an explo- 
sion of responsive yells, till the shores resounded with 
the wolfish din.^ 

The rites over, they set forth, and in a few days re- 
turned exulting, with thirteen prisoners and a number 
of scalps. The latter were hung on a pole before the 
royal lodge, and when night came, it brought with it a 
pandemonium of dancing and whooping, drumming and 
feasting. 

^ Le Moyne makes the scene the subject of one of his pictures. 



56 LAUDONNlilEE. [1564. 

A notable scheme entered the brain of Laudonniere. 
Resolved, cost what it might, to make a friend of Oa- 
tina, he conceived it to be a stroke of policy to send back 
to him two of the prisoners. In the morning- he sent a 
soldier to Satouriona to demand them. The astonished 
chief gave a flat refusal, adding that he owed the French 
no favors, for they had shamefully broken faith with 
•him. On this, Laudonniere, at the head of twenty 
soldiers, proceeded to the Indian town, placed a guard 
at the opening of the great lodge, entered with his ar- 
quebusiers, and seated himself without ceremony in the 
highest place. Here, to show his displeasure, he re- 
mained in silence for half an hour. At length he spoke, 
renewing his demand. For some moments Satouriona 
made no reply ; then he coldly observed that the sight of 
so many armed men had frightened the prisoners away. 
Laudonniere grew peremptory, when the chief's son, 
Athore, went out, and presently returned with the two 
Indians, whom the French led back to Fort Caroline.^ 

Satouriona dissembled, professed good-will, and sent 
presents to the fort ; but the outrage rankled in his 
savage breast, and he never forgave it. 

Captain Vasseur, with the Swiss ensign, Arlac, a 
sergeant, and ten soldiers, embarked to bear the ill-got- 
ten gift to Outina. Arrived, they were showered with 
thanks by that grateful potentate, who, hastening to 
avail himself of his new alliance, invited them to join 
in a raid against his neighbor, Potanouo To this end, 
Arlac and five soldiers remained, while Vasseur with 
the rest descended to Fort Caroline. 

1 Laudonniere in Hakluyt, III. 395. 



1564.J VASSEUR'S EXPEDITI0:N. 5*7 

The warriors were mustered, the dances were danced, 
and the songs were sung. Then the wild cohort took 
up their march. The wilderness through which they 
passed holds its distinctive features to this day, — the 
shady desert of the pine-barrens, where many a wan- 
derer has miserably died, witli haggard eye seeking 
in vain for clue or guidance in the pitiless, inexorable 
monotony. Yet the waste has its oases, the " hum- 
mocks," where the live-oaks are hung with long fes- 
toons of grape-vines, — where the air is sweet with 
woodland odors, and vocal with the song of birds. 
Then the deep cypress-swamp, where dark trunks rise 
like the columns of some vast* sepulchre ; above, the 
impervious canopy of leaves ; beneath, a black and root- 
entangled slough. Perpetual moisture trickles down 
the clammy bark, while trunk and limb, distorted with 
strange shapes of vegetable disease, wear in the gloom 
a semblance grotesque and startling. Lifeless forms 
lean propped in wild disorder against the living, and 
from every rugged stem and lank, outstretched limb 
hangs the dark drapery of the Spanish moss. The 
swamp is veiled in mourning ; no breath, no voice ; 
a deathly stillness, till the plunge of the alligator, lash" 
ing the waters of the black lagoon, resounds with hol- 
low echo through the tomb-like solitude. 

Next came the broad sunlight and the wide savanna. 
Wading breast-deep in grass, they view the wavy sea 
of verdure ; headland and cape and far-reaching prom- 
ontory ; distant coasts, hazy and dim ; havens and 
shadowed coves ; islands of the magnolia and the palm; 



58 LAUDONNlfeUE. [1564. 

hig"h, impending shores of tiie mulberry and elm, ash, 
hickory, and maple. Here the rich gordonia, never 
out of bloom, sends down its thirsty roots to drink 
at the stealing brook. Here the halesia hangs out its 
silvery bells, the purple clusters of the wistaria droop 
from the supporting bough, and the coral blossoms 
of the erythrilia glow in the shade beneath. From 
tufted masses of sword-like leaves shoot up the tall 
spires of the yucca, heavy with pendent flowers of pal- 
lid hue, like the moon, and. from the grass gleams the 
blue eye of the starry ixia.-^ 

Through forest, savanna, and swamp, the valiant 
Frenchmen held their 'way. At first, Outina's Indi- 
ans kept always in advance ; but, when they reached 
the hostile district, the modest warriors fell to the rear, 
resigning the post of honor to their French allies. 

An open country lay before them ; a rude cultiva- 
tion ; the tall palisades of an Indian town. Their ap- 
proach was seen, and the warriors of Potanou, no- 
wise daunted, swarmed forth to meet them. But the 
sight of the bearded strangers, the flash and report of 
the fire-arms, the fall of their foremost chief, shot 
through the brain by Arlac, filled them with couster- 
nation, and they fled headlong within their defences. 
The men of Thimagoa ran screeching in pursuit. All 
entered the town together, pell-mell. ' Then followed 
slaughter, pillage, flame. The work was done, and 
the band returned triumphant. 

1 Species of all the above are frequent in tlie district alluded to, but 
perhaps the license of narrative is exceeded in supposing them all in 
bloom at once. The Floridian ixia is, as above indicated, blue, unlike 
others of the genus. 



CHAPTER V. 

1564, 1565. 

CONSPIRACY. 

Discontent. — Plot of Roquette. — Piratical Excursion. — Sedition. — 
Illness of Laudonniere. — Outbreak of the Mutiny. — Buccaneers. 
— Order restored. 

In the little world of Fort Caroline, a miniature 
France, cliques and parties, conspiracy and sedition, 
were fast stirring into life. Hopes had been dashed ; 
wild expectations had come to nought. The adventur- 
ers had found, not conquest and gold, but a dull exile 
in a petty fort by a hot and sickly river, with hard la- 
bor, bad fare, prospective famine, and nothing to break 
the weary sameness but some passing canoe or floating 
alligator. Gathered in knots, they nursed each other's 
wrath, and inveighed against the commandant. Why 
are we put on half - rations, when he told us that 
provision should be made for a full year ? Where 
are the reinforcements and supplies that he said should 
follow us from France "? Why is he always closeted 
with Ottigny, Arlac, and this and that favorite, when 
we, men of blood as good as theirs, cannot gain his ear 
for a moment ? And why has he *sent La Roche Fer- 
riere to make his fortune among the Indians, while we 
are kept here, digging at the works I ^ 

1 Compare Le Moyne, Brevis Narratio, 9 



60 CONSPIRACY. [1564 

Of La Roche Ferriere and his adventures, more 
hereafter. The young nobles, of whom there were 
many, were volunteers, who had paid their own ex- 
penses, in expectation of a golden harvest, and they 
chafed in impatience and disgust. The relig-ious ele- 
ment in the colony — unlike the former Huguenot emi- 
gration to Brazil — was evidently subordinate. The 
adventurers thought more of their fortunes than of 
their faith ; yet there were not a few earnest enough in 
the doctrine of Geneva to complain loudly and bitterly 
that no ministers had been sent with them. The bur- 
den of all grievances was thrown upon Laudonniere, 
whose greatest errors seem to have arisen from weak- 
ness and a lack of judgment, — fatal defects in his 
position. 

The growing discontent was brought to a partial head 
by one Roquette, who gave out that high up the river 
he had discovered by magic a mine of gold and silver, 
which would give each of them a share of ten thousand 
crowns, besides fifteen hundred thousand for the king. 
But for Laudonniere, he said, their fortunes w^ould all 
be made. He found an ally in a gentleman named 
Genre, one of Laudonniere's confidants, who, still pro- 
fessing fast adherence to his interests, is charged by 
him with plotting against his life. Many of the sol- 
diers were in the conspiracy. They made a flag of 
an old shirt, which they carried with them to the ram- 
part when they went to their work, at the same time 
wearing their arms, and watching an opportunity to 
kill the commandant. About this time, overheating 



1564.] i'lEATICAL EXCURSION. 3J 

himself, he fell ill, and was confined to his quarters. 
On this, Genre made advances to the apothecary, urg- 
ing him to put arsenic into his medicines ; but the 
apothecary shrugged his shoulders. They next devised 
a scheme to blow him up by hiding a keg of gunpow- 
der under his bed ; but here, too, they failed. Hints 
of Genre's machinations reaching the ears of Laudon- 
niere, the culprit fled to the woods, whence he wrote re 
pentant letters, with full confession, to his commander. 

Two of the ships meanwhile returned to France, — 
the third, the Breton, remaining at anchor opposite the 
fort. The malecontents took the opportunity to send 
home charges against Laudonniere of peculation, favor- 
itism, and tyranny.-' 

Early in September, Captain Bourdet, apparently a 
private adventurer, had arrived from France with a 
small vessel. When he returned, about the tenth of 
November, Laudonniere persuaded him to carry home 
seven or eight of the malecontent soldiers. Bourdet 
left some of his sailors in their place. The exchange 
proved most disastrous. These pirates joined with 
others whom they had won over, stole Laudonniere's 
two pinnaces, and set forth on a plundering excursion 
to the West Indies. They took a small Spanish vessel 
off the coast of Cuba, but were soon compelled by 
famine to put into Havana and give themselves up. 
Here, to make their peace with the authorities, they 
told all they knew of the position and purposes of their 

1 Barcia, Ensayo Cronologico, 53 ; Laudonniere in Hakluyt, III. 400 • 
Basanier, 61, 

B 



62 CONSPIRACY. [1564. 

countrymen at Fort Caroline, and thus was forged the 
thunderbolt soon to be hurled against the wretched little 
colony. 

On a Sunday morning, Fran9ois de la Caille-^came to 
Laudonniere's quarters, and, in the name of the whole 
company, requested him to come to the parade-ground. 
He complied, and, issuing forth, his* inseparable Ottigny 
at his side, he saw some thirty of his officers, soldiers, 
and gentlemen-volunteers waiting before the building 
with fixed and sombre countenances. La Caille, advanc- 
ing, begged leave to read, in behalf of the rest, a paper 
which he held in his hand. It opened with protestations 
of duty and obedience ; next came complaints of hard 
work, starvation, and broken promises, and a request 
that the petitioners should be allowed to embark in the 
vessel lying in the river, and cruise along the Spanish 
main in order to procure provisions by purchase " or 
otherwise." In short, the flower of the company wished 
to turn buccaneers. 

Laudonniere refused, but assured them, that, as soon 
as the defences of the fort should be completed, a search 
should be begun in earnest for the Appalachian gold- 
mine, and that meanwhile two small vessels then build- 
ing on the river should be sent along the coast to barter 
for provisions with the Indians. With this answer they 
were forced to content themselves ; but the fermentation 
continued, and the plot thickened. Their spokesman, 

1 La Caille, as before mentioned, was Laudonniere's sergeant. The 
feudal rank of sergeant, it will be remembered, was widely different 
from the modern grade so named, and was held by men of noble birth. 



1664.1 MUTINY. 



63 



La Callle, however, seeing whither the affair tended, 
broke with them, and, except Ottigny, Vasseur, and the 
brave Swiss, Arlac, was the only officer who held to his 
duty. 

A severe illness again seized Laudonniere and con- 
fined him to his bed. Improving their advantage, the 
malecontents gained over nearly all the best soldiers in 
the fort. The ringleader was one Fourneaux, a man 
of good birth, but whom Le Moyne calls an avaricious 
hypocrite. He drew up a paper to which sixty-six names 
were signed. La Caille boldly opposed the conspirators, 
and they resolved to kill him. His room-mate, Le 
Moyne, who had also. refused to sign, received a hint 
from a friend that he had better change his quarters ; 
upon which he warned La Caille, who escaped to the 
woods. It was late in the night. Fourneaux, with 
twenty men armed to the teeth, knocked fiercely at the 
commandant's door. Forcing an entrance, they wounded 
a gentleman who opposed them, and crowded around 
the sick man's bed. Fourneaux, armed with steel cap 
and cuirass, held his arquebuse to Laudonniere 's breast, 
and demanded leave to go on a cruise among the Span- 
ish islands. The latter kept his presence of mind, and 
remonstrated with some firmness ; on which, with oaths 
and menaces, they dragged him from his bed, put him 
in fetters, carried him out to the gate of the fort, placed 
him in a boat, and rowed him to the ship anchored in 
the river. 

Two other gangs at the same time visited Ottigny 
and Arlac, whom they disarmed, and ordered to keep 



Q4f CONSPIRACY. [1564. 

their rooms till the night following, on pain of death. 
Smaller parties were busied, meanwhile, in disarming 
all the loyal soldiers. The fort was completely in the 
hands of the conspirators. Fourneaux drew up a com- 
mission for his meditated West-India cruise, which he 
required Laudonniere to sign. The sick commandant, 
imprisoned in the ship, with one attendant, at first re- 
fused ; but, receiving a message from the mutineers, 
that, if he did not comply, they would come on board 
and cut his throat, he at length yielded. 

The buccaneers now bestirred themselves to finish the 
two small vessels on which the carpenters had been for 
some time at vt^ork. In a fortnight they were ready for 
sea, armed and provided with the king's cannon, muni- 
tions, and stores. Trenchant, an excellent pilot, was 
forced to join the party. Their favorite object was the 
plunder of a certain church, on one of the Spanish 
islands, which they proposed to assail during the mid- 
night mass of Christmas, whereby a triple end would 
be achieved : first, a rich booty ; secondly, the punish- 
ment of idolatry ; thirdly, vengeance on the arch-enemies 
of their party and their faith. They set sail on the 
eighth of December, taunting those who reaiained, call- 
ing them greenhorns, and threatening condign punish- 
ment, if, on their triumphant return, they should be 
refused free entrance to the fort. 

They were no sooner gone than the unfortunate Lau- 
donniere was gladdened in his soli^de by the approach 
of his fast friends, Ottigny and Arlac, who conveyed 
him to the fort, and reinstated him. The entire com- 



1665.] BUCCANEEKS. 65 

mand was reorganized, and new officers appointed. The 
colony was wofully depleted ; but the bad blood had been 
drawn off, and thenceforth all internal danger was at 
an end. In finishing the fort, in building two new ves- 
sels to replace those of which they had been robbed, 
and in various intercourse with the tribes far and near, 
the weeks passed until the twenty-fifth of March, when 
an Indian came in with the tidings that a vessel was 
hovering off the coast. Laudonniere sent to reconnoitre. 
The stranger lay anchored at the mouth of the river. 
She was a Spanish brigantine, manned by the return- 
ing mutineers, starving, downcast, and anxious to make 
terms. Yet, as their posture seemed not wholly pacific, 
Laudonniere sent down La Caille with thirty soldiers, 
concealed at the bottom of his little vessel. Seeing 
only two or three on deck, the pirates allowed her to 
come along-side ; when, to their amazement, they were 
boarded and taken before they could snatch their arms. 
Discomfited, woe-begone, and drunk, they were landed 
under a guard. Their story was soon told. Fortune 
had flattered them at the outset. On the coast of Cuba, 
they took a brigantine laden with wine and stores. Em- 
barking in her, they next fell in with a caravel, which 
also they captured. Landing at a village in Jamaica, 
they plundered and caroused for a week, and had hardly 
rerunbarked when they fell in with a small vessel having 
on board the governor of the island. She made des- 
])erate fight, but was taken at last, and with her a rich 
booty. They thought to put the governor to ransom ; 
but the astute official deceived them, and, on pretence 

6* 



gg CONSPIRA.CY. [1565. 

of negotiating- for the sum demanded, together with 
certain apes and parrots, for which Iiis captors had also 
bargained, contrived to send instructions to his wife. 
Hence it happened that at daybreak three armed ves- 
sels fell upon them, retook the prize, and captured or 
killed all the pirates but twenty-six, who, cutting the 
moorings of their brigantine, fled out to sea. Among 
these was the ringleader, Fourneaux, and, happily, the 
pilot, Trenchant. The latter, eager to return to Fort 
Caroline, whence he had been forcibly taken, succeeded 
during the night in bringing the vessel to the coast 
of Florida. Great were the wrath and consternation 
of the pirates, when they saw their dilemma ; for, 
having no provision, they must either starve or seek 
succor at the fort. They chose the latter, and bore 
away for the St. John's. A few casks of Spanish 
wine yet remained, and nobles and soldiers, frater- 
nized by the common peril of a halter, joined in a 
last carouse. As the wine mounted to their heads, in 
the mirth of drink and desperation, they enacted their 
own trial. One personated the judge, another the com- 
mandant ; witnesses were called, with arguments and 
speeches on either side. 

" Say what you like," said one of them, after hearing 
the counsel for the defence ; " but if Laudonniere does 
not hang us all, I will never call him an honest man." 

They had some hope of getting provisions from the 
Indians at the mouth of the river, and then putting to 
sea again ; but this was frustrated by La Caille's sud- 
den attack. A court-martial was called near Fort Caro- 



1565.J ORDER RESTORED. (J-y 

line, and all were found guilty. Fourneaux and three 
others were sentenced to be hanoed. 

" Comrades," said one of the condemned, appealing- 
to the soldiers, " will you stand by and see us butch- 
ered '? " 

" These/' retorted Laudonniere, " are no comrades 
of mutineers and rebels." 

At the request of his followers, however, he com- 
muted the sentence to shooting. 

A file of men, a rattling volley, and the debt of 
justice was paid. The bodies were hanged on gibbets 
at the river's mouth, and order reigned at Fort Caro- 
line.^ 

1 The above is from Le Moyne and Laudonniere, who agree in essential 
points, but differ in a few details. The artist criticises the commandant 
freely- Compare Hawkins in Hakluyt, III. 614. 



CHAPTER VI. 

1564, 1565. 

FAMINE. WAR. SUCCOR. 

La Roche Ferriere. — Pierre Gambie. — The King of Calos. — Ot- 
tigny's Expedition. — Starvation. — Efforts to escape from Flor- 
ida. — Indians unfriendly. — Seizure of Outina. — Attempts to ex- 
tort Ransom. — Ambuscade. — Battle. — Desperation of the French. 
— Sir John Hawkins relieves them. — Kibaut brings Eeinforce- 
ments. — Advent of the Spaniards. 

While the mutiny was brewing, one La Roche Fer- 
riere had been sent out as an agent or emissary among 
the more distant tribes. Sagacious, bold, and restless, 
he pushed his way from town to town, and pretended to 
have reached the mysterious mountains of Appalache. 
He sent to the fort mantles woven with feathers, quiv- 
ers covered with choice furs, arrows tipped with gold, 
wedges of a green stone like beryl or emerald, and 
other trophies of his wanderings. A gentleman named 
Grotaut took up the quest, and penetrated to the domin- 
ions of Hostaqua, who could muster three or four thou- 
sand warriors, and who promised with the aid of a 
hundred arquebusiers to conquer all the kings of the 
adjacent mountains, and' subject them and their gold- 
mines to the rule of the French. A humbler adven- 
turer was Pierre Gambie, a robust and daring youth, 
who had been brought up in the household of Coligny, 
and was now a soldier under Laudonniere. The latter 



1564.] THE KING OF CALOS. gO 

gave him leavt to trade with the Indians, a privilege 
which he used so well that he grew rich with his traffic, 
became prime favorite with the chief of the island of 
Edelano, married his daughter, and, in his absence, 
reigned in his stead. But, as his sway verged towards 
despotism, his subjects took offence, and beat out his 
brains with a hatchet. 

During the winter, Indians from the neighborhood 
of Cape Canaveral brought to the fort two Spaniards, 
wrecked fifteen years before on the southwestern ex- 
tremity of the peninsula. They were clothed like the 
Indians, — in other words, were not clothed at all, — 
and their uncut hair streamed wildly down their backs. 
They brought strange tales of those among whom they 
had dwelt. They told of the King of Calos, on whose 
domains they had been wrecked, a chief mighty iii 
stature and in power. In One of his villages was a pit, 
six feet deep and as wide as a hogshead, filled with 
treasure gathered from Spanish wrecks on acljacent 
reefs and keys. The monarch was a priest too, and a 
magician, with power over the elements. Each year 
he withdrew from the public gaze to hold converse in 
secret with supernal or infernal powers ; and each year 
he sacrificed to his gods one of the Spaniards whom the 
fortune of the sea had cast upon his shores. The name 
of the tribe is preserved in that of the River Caloosa. 
In close league with him was the mighty Oathcaqua, 
dwelling near Cape Canaveral, who gave his daughter, 
a maiden of wondrous beauty, in marriage to his great 
ally. But, as the bride, with her bridesmaids,, was 



•70 FAMINE. — WAR - SUCCOR, |1665. 

journeying towards Calos, escorted by a chosen band, 
they were assailed by a wild and warlike race, inhabi- 
tants of an island called Sarrope, in the midst of a great 
lake, who put the warriors to flight, bore the maidens 
captive to their watery fastness, espoused them all, and 
we are assured, " loved them above all measure." ^ 

Outina, taught by Arlac the efficacy of the French 
fire-arms, begged for ten arquebusiers to aid him on a; 
new raid among the villages of Potanou, again alluring 
his greedy allies by the assurance, that, thus reinforced, 
he would conquer for them a free access to the phan- 
tom gold - mines of Appalache. Ottigny set forth on 
this fool's-errand with thrice the force demanded. Three 
hundred Thimagoa and thirty Frenchmen took up their 
march through the pine - barrens. Outina's conjurer 
was of the number, and had wellnigh ruined the enter- 
prise. Kneeling on Ottigny 's shield, that he might not 
touch the earth, with hideous grimaces, bowlings, and 
contortions, he wrought himself into a prophetic frenzy, 
and proclaimed to the astounded warriors that to ad- 
vance farther would be destruction. Outina was for 
instant retreat, but Ottigny 's sarcasms shamed him into 
a show of courage. Again they moved forward, and 
soon encountered Potanou with all his host.^ The 

1 Laudonniere in Hakluyt, III. 406. Brinton, Floridian Peninsula, 
thinks tliere is trutli in the story, and tliat Lake Ware, in Marion County, 
is the Lake of Sarrope. I s;ive these romantic tales as I find them. 

2 Le Moyno drew a picture of the figlit. In the foreground Ottigny 
is engaged in single combat with a gigantic savage, who, with club up- 
heaved, aims a deadly stroke at the plumed helmet of his foe ; but the 
latter, with target raised to guard his head, darts under the arms of the 
naked Goliath, and tranfixes him with Ills sword. De Brv, Part 11. 



1565.] STARVATION. y| 

arquebuse did its work ; panic, slaughter, and a jjlen- 
tiful harvest of scalps. But no persuasion could in- 
duce Outina to follow up his victory. He went home 
to dance around his trophies, and the French returned 
disgusted to Fort Caroline. 

And now, in ample measure, the French began to 
reap the harvest of their folly. Conquest, gold, mili- 
tary occupation, — such had been their aims. Not a 
rood of ground had been stirred with the spade. Their 
stores were consumed ; the expected supplies had not 
come. The Indians, too, were hostile. Satouriona 
hated them as allies of his enemies ; and his tribesmen, 
robbed and maltreated by the lawless soldiers, exulted 
in their miseries. Yet in these, their dark and subtle 
neighbors, was their only hope. 

May-day came, the third anniversary of the day 
when Ribaut and his companions, full of delighted an- 
ticipations, had explored the flowery borders of the St. 
John's. The contrast was dire ; for, within the precinct 
of Fort Carohne, a homesick, squalid band, dejected 
and w^orn, dragged their shrunken limbs about the sun- 
scorched area, or lay stretched in listless wretchedness 
under the shade of the barracks. Some were diffeinof 
roots in the forest, or gathering a kind of sorrel upon 
the meadows. One collected refuse fish - bones, and 
pounded them into meal. Yet, giddy with weakness, 
their skin clinging to their bones, they dragged them- 
selves in turn to the top of St. John's Bluff, straining 
their eyes across the sea to descry the anxiously ex- 
pected sail. 



yg FAMINE. — WAR. — SUCCOR. [1565. 

Had Coligny left them to perish 1 or had some new 
tempest of calamity, let loose upon France, drowned 
the memory of their exile ? In vain the watchman on 
the hill surveyed the solitude of waters. A deep de- 
jection fell upon them, a dejection that would have sunk 
to despair, could their eyes have pierced the future. 

The Indians had left the neighborhood, but, from 
time to time, brought in meagre supplies of fish, which 
they sold to the famished soldiers at exorbitant prices. 
Lest they should pay the penalty of their extortion, 
they would not enter the fort, but lay in their canoes in 
the river, beyond gunshot, waiting for their customers 
to come out to them. " Oftentimes," says Laudonniere, 
" our poor soldiers were constrained to give away the 
very shirts from their backs to get one fish. If at any 
time they shewed unto the savages the excessive price 
which they tooke, these villaines would answere them 
roughly and churlishly : If thou make so great account 
of thy marchandise, eat it, and we will eat our fish : 
then fell they out a laughing and mocked us with open 
throat." 

The spring wore away, and no relief appeared. One 
thought now engrossed the colonists, the thought of 
return to France. Vasseur's ship, the Breton, still 
remained in the river, and they had also the Spanish 
brigantine brought by the mutineers. But these ves- 
sels were insufficient, and they prepared to build a new 
one. The energy of reviving hope lent new life to 
their exhausted frames. Some gathered pitch in the 
pine forests ; some made charcoal ; some cut and sawed 



1565.] ' SEIZURE OF OUTINA JQ 

timber. The maize began to ripen, and this brought 
some relief; but the Indians, exasperated and greedy, 
sold it with reluctance, and murdered two half-famished 
Frenchmen who gathered a handful in the fields. 

The colonists applied to Outina, who owed them two 
victories. The result was a churlish message and a 
niggardly supply of corn, coupled with an invitation to 
aid him against an insurgent chief, the plunder of 
whose villages would yield an ample supply. The offer 
was accepted. Ottigny and Vasseur set forth, but 
were grossly deceived, led against a different enemy, 
and sent back empty-handed and half-starved. 

A crowd of soldiers, pale with famine and with rage, 
beset Laudonniere, and fiercely denianded to be led 
against Outina to take him prisoner and extort from his 
fears the supplies which could not be looked for from 
his gratitude. The commandant was forced to comply. 
Those who could bear the weight of their armor put it 
on, embarked, to the nmnber of fifty, in two barges, 
and sailed up the river under the commandant himself. 
Having reached Outina's landing, they marched inland, 
entered his village, surrounded his mud-plastered palace, 
seized him amid the yells and bowlings of his subjects, 
and led him prisoner to their boats. Here, anchored 
in mid - stream, they demanded a supply of corn and 
beans as the price of his ransom. 

The alarm spread. Excited warriors, bedaubed with 
red, came thronging from all his villages. The forest 
along the shore was full of them ; and troops of women 
gathered at the water's edge with moans, outcries, and 

7 



•^4 FAMINE. - WAE — SUCCOR. [1565. 

gestures of despair. Yet no ransom was offered, since, 
reasoning from their own instincts, they never doubted, 
that, after the price was paid, the captive would be put 
to death. 

Laudonniere waited two days, and then descended 
the river. In a rude chamber of Fort CaroHne, the 
sentinel stood his guard, pike in hand, while before him 
crouched the captive chief, mute, impassive, and brood- 
ing on his woes. His old enemy, Satouriona, keen as 
a hound on the scent of prey, tried, by great offers, to 
bribe Laudonniere to give the prisoner into his hands. 
Outina, however, was kindly treated, and assured of 
immediate freedom on payment of the ransom. 

Meanwhile his captivity was entailing grievous afflic- 
tion on his tribesmen ; for, despairing of his return, they 
mustered for the election of a new chief. Party-strife 
ran high. Some were for a boy, his son, and sonie for 
an ambitious kinsman who coveted the vacant throne. 
Outina chafed in his prison on learning these dissen- 
sions ; and, eager to convince his over - hasty subjects 
that their king still lived, he was so profuse of prom- 
ises, that he was again embarked and carried up the 
river. 

At no great distance below Lake George, a small 
affluent of the St. John's gave access by water to a 
point within eighteen miles of Outina's principal town. 
The two barges, crowded with soldiers, and bearing 
also the royal captive, rowed up this little stream. In- 
dians awaited them at the landing, with gifts of bread, 
beans, and fish, and piteous prayers for their chief, upon 



1565.1 PERIL OF THE EEENCH. 1^5 

whose liberation they promised an ample supply of corn. 
As they were deaf to all other terms, Laudonniere 
yielded, released the chief, and received in his place 
two hostages, who were fast bound in the boats. Ot- 
tigny and Arlac, with a strong detachment of arque- 
busiers, set forth to receive the promised supplies, for 
which, from the first, full payment in merchandise had 
been offered. On their arrival at the village, they filed 
into the great central lodge, within whose dusky pre- 
cincts were gathered the magnates of the tribe. Coun- 
cil-chamber, forum, banquet-hall, dancing-hall, palace, 
all in one, the royal dwelling could hold half the popu- 
lation in its capacious confines. Here the French made 
their abode. Their armor buckled, their arquebuse- 
matches lighted, they stood, or sat, or reclined on the 
earthen floor, with anxious eyes watching the strange, 
dim scene, half lighted by the daylight that streamed 
down through the hole at the apex of the roof. Tall, 
dark forms stalked to and fro, with quivers at their 
backs, and bows and arrows in their hands, while 
groups, crouched in the shadow beyond, eyed the hated 
guests with inscrutable visages, and malignant, sidelong 
eyes. Corn came in slowly, but warriors mustered 
fast. The village without was full of them. The 
French officers grew anxious, and urged the chiefs to 
greater alacrity in collecting the promised ransom. 
The answer boded no good. " Our women are afraid, 
when they see the matches of your guns burning. Put 
them out, and they will bring the corn faster." 

Outina was nowhere to be seen. At length they 



•^5 FAMINE. — WAU. — SUCCOR. [1565- 

learned that he was in one of the small huts adjacent. 
Several of the officers went to him, complaining of the 
slow payment of his ransom. The kindness of his 
captors at Fort Caroline seemed to have won his heart. 
He replied, that such was the rage of his subjects that 
he could no longer control them, — that the French 
were in danger, — and that he had seen arrows stuck 
in the ground by the side of the path, in token that war 
was declared. Their peril was thickening hourly, and 
Ottigny resolved to regain the boats while there was 
yet time. 

On the twenty-seventh of July, at nine in the morn- 
ing, he set his men in order. Each shouldering a sack 
of corn, they marched through the rows of squalid huts 
that surrounded the great lodge, and out betwixt the 
overlapping extremities of the palisade that encircled the 
town. Before them stretched a wide avenue, three or 
four hundred paces long, flanked by a natural growth 
of trees, — one of those curious monuments of native 
industry to which an allusion has been already made.^ 
Here Ottigny halted and formed his line of march. 
Arlac.with eight matchlock-men was sent in advance, 
and flanking parties were thrown into the woods on 
either side. Ottigny told his soldiers, that, if the 
Indians meant to attack them, they were probably in 
ambush at the other end of the avenue. He was right. 
As Arlac's party reached the spot, the whole pack 
gave tongue at once. The war - whoop rose, and a 
tempest of stone - headed arrows clattered against the 

1 See ante, p. 50. 



1565.1 AMBUSCADE. — BATTLE. i^y 

breastplates of the French, or, scorching like fire, tore 
through their unprotected liuibs. They stood firm, and 
sent back their shot so steadily that several of the as- 
sailants were laid dead, and the rest, two or three hun- 
dred in number, gave way as Ottigny came up with 
his men. 

They moved on for a quarter of a mile through a 
country, as it seems, comparatively open ; when again 
the war - cry pealed in front, and three hundred sav- 
ages bounded to the assault. Their whoops were 
echoed from the rear. It was the party whom Arlac 
had just repulsed, who, leaping and showering their 
arrows, were rushing on with a ferocity restrained only 
by their lack of courage. There was no panic among 
the French. The men threw down their bags of corn, 
and took to their weapons. They blew their matches, 
and, under two excellent officers, stood well to their 
work. The Indians, on their part, showed a good dis- 
cipline after their fashion, and were perfectly under the 
control of their chiefs. With cries that imitated the 
yell of owls, the scream of cougars, and the howl of 
wolves,^ they ran up in successive bands, let fly their 
arrows, and instantly fell back, giving place to others. 
At the sight of the levelled arquebuse, they dropped flat 
on the earth. Whenever the French charged upon 
them, sword in hand, they fled through the woods like 
foxes ; and, whenever the march was resumed, the ar- 



1 Indian war - cries are to a great degree imitations of the cries of 
beasts and birds of prey, above all, of those of the great horned owl, 
than which the forest has no sound more startling and discordant. 

7* 



•yg FAMINE. — WAR. — SUCCOR. [1566 

rows were showering again upon the flanks and rear 
of the retiring band. As they fell, the soldiers coolly 
picked them up and broke them. Thus, beset with 
swarming savages, the handful of Frenchmen pushed 
their march till nightfall, fighting as they went. 

The Indians gradually drew off, and the forest was 
silent again. Two of the French had been killed and 
twenty-two wounded, several so severely that they were 
supported to the boats with the utmost difficulty. Of 
the corn, two bags only had been brought off. 

Famine and desperation now reigned at Fort Caro- 
line. The Indians had killed two of the carpenters ; 
hence long delay in the finishing of the new ship. They 
would not wait, but resolved to put to sea in the Breton 
and the brigantine. The problem was to find food for 
the voyage ; for now, in their extremity, they roasted 
and ate snakes, a delicacy in which the neighborhood 
abounded. 

On the third of August, Laudonniere, perturbed and 
oppressed, was walking on the hill, when, looking sea- 
ward, he saw a sight that sent a thrill through his ex- 
hausted frame. A great ship was standing towards the 
river's mouth. Then another came in sight, and an- 
other, and another. He despatched a messenger with 
the tidings to the fort below. The languid forms of 
his sick and despairing men rose and danced for joy, 
and voices, shrill with weakness, joined in wild laughter 
and acclamation. 

A doubt soon mingled with their joy. Who were 
the strangers '? Were they the friends so long hoped 



1565.] SIR JOHN HAWKINS. , 179 

for in vain *? or were they Spaniards, their dreaded 
enemies ? They were neither. The foremost ship was 
a stately one, of seven hundred tons, a mighty burden 
at that day. She was named the Jesus; and with her 
were three smaller vessels, the Solomon, the Tiger, and 
the Swallow. Their commander was " a right worship- 
ful and valiant knight," — for so the record styles him, 
— a pious man and a prudent, to judge him by the 
orders he gave his crew, when, ten months before, he 
sailed out of Plymouth : — " Serve God daily, love one 
another, preserve your victuals, beware of fire, and 
keepe good companie." Nor were the crew unworthy 
of the graces of their chief; for the devout chronicler of 
the voyage ascribes their deliverance from the perils of 
the sea to "the Almightie God, who never suffereth 
his Elect to perish." 

Who, then, were they, this chosen band, serenely 
conscious of a special Providential care ] Apostles of 
the cross, bearing the word of peace to benighted 
heathendom "? They were the pioneers of that detested . 
traffic destined to inoculate with its infection nations 
yet unborn, the parent of discord and death, filling half 
a continent with the tramp of armies and the clash of 
fratricidal swords. Their chief was Sir John Hawkins, 
father of the English slave-trade. 

He had been to the coast of Guinea, where he bought 
and kidnapped a cargo of slaves. These he had sold 
to the jealous Spaniards of Hispaniola, forcing them, 
with sword, matchlock, and culverin, to grant him free 
trade, and then to sign testimonials that he had borne 



80 FAMINE. — WAR. — SUCCOR. [1565. 

himself as became a peaceful merchant. Prospering- 
greatly by this summary commerce, but distressed by 
the want of water, he had put into the River of May 
to obtain a supply. 

Among the rugged heroes of the British marine, Sir 
John stood in the front rank, and along with Drake, 
his relative, is extolled as " a man borne for the honour 

of the English name Neither did the West of 

England yeeld such an Indian Neptunian paire as were 
these two Ocean peeres, Hawkins and Drake." So 
writes the old chronicler, Purchas, and all England was 
of his thinking. A hardy seaman, a bold fighter, over- 
bearing towards equals, but kind, in his bluff way, to 
those beneath him, rude in speech, somewhat crafty 
withal, and avaricious, he buffeted his way to riches and 
fame, *and died at last full of years and honor. As for 
the abject humanity stowed between the reeking decks 
of the ship Jesus, they were merely in his eyes so many 
black cattle tethered for the market.-^ 

1 For Hawkins, see the three narratives in Hakhiyt, III. 594 ; Pur- 
chas, IV. 1177; Stow, Chron. 807; Biog. Britan. Art. Hawkins ; Ander- 
son, History of Commerce, I. 400. 

He was not knighted until after the voyage of 1564-5; hence there is 
an anachronism in the text. As he was held " to have opened a new 
trade," he was entitled to bear as his crest a "Moor" or negro, bomid 
with a cord. In Fairbairn's Crests of Great Britain and Ireland, where it is 
figured, it is described, not as a negro, but as a " naked man." In Burke's 
Landed Geniri/, it is said that Sir John obtained it in honor of a great vic- 
tory over the Moors ! His only African victories were in kidnapping 
raids on negro villages. In Letters on Certain Passages in the Life of Sir 
John Hawkins, the coat is engraved iii detail. The " demi-Moor " has the 
thick lips, the flat nose, and the wool of the unequivocal negro. 

Sir John became Treasurer of the Royal Navy and Rear - Admiral, 
and founded a marine hospital at Chatham. 



1565.] GENEROSITY OF HAWKINS. gj 

Hawkins came up the river in a pinnace, and landed 
at. Fort Caroline, "accompanied," says Laudonniere, 
" with gentlemen honorably apparelled, yet unarmed." 
Between the Huguenots and the English there was a 
double tie of sympathy. Both hated priests, and both 
hated Spaniards. Wakening from their apathetic mis- 
ery, the starvehng garrison hailed him as a deliverer. 
Yet Hawkins secretly rejoiced when he learned their 
purj)Ose to abandon Florida ; for, though, not to tempt 
his cupidity, they hid from him the secret of their Ap- 
palachian gold-mine, he coveted for his royal mistress 
the possession of this rich domain. He shook his head, 
however, when he saw the vessels in which they pro- 
posed to embark, and offered them all a free passage to 
France in his own ships. This, from obvious motives 
of honor and prudence, Laudonniere declined, upon 
which Hawkins offered to lend or sell to him one of his 
smaller vessels. 

Laudonniere hesitated, and hereupon arose a great 
clamor. A mob of soldiers and artisans beset his 
chamber, threatening loudly to desert him, and take 
passage with Hawkins, unless the offer of the latter 
were accepted. The commandant accordingly resolved 
to buy the vessel. The generous slaver, whose reputed 
avarice nowise appears in the transaction, desired him 
to set his own price ; and, in place of money, took the 
cannon of the fort, with other articles now useless to 
their late owners. He sent them, too, a gift of wine 
and biscuit, and supplied them with provisions for the 
voyage, receiving in payment Laudonniere's note, — 



8£ FAMINE. — WAR. — SUCCOR. [1566, 

" for which," adds the latter, " I am until this present 
indebted to him." With a friendly leave - taking he 
returned to his ships and stood out to sea, leaving 
golden opinions among the grateful inmates of Fort 
Caroline. 

Before the English top-sails had sunk beneath the 
horizon, the colonists bestirred themselves to depart. 
In a few days their preparations were made. They 
waited only for a fair wind. It was long in coming, 
and meanwhile their troubled fortunes assumed a new 
phase. 

On the twenty-eighth of August, the two captains, 
Vasseur and Verdier, came in with tidings of an ap- 
proaching squadron. Again the fort was wild with ex- 
citement. Friends or foes, French or Spaniards, succor 
or death ; — betwixt these were their hopes and fears 
divided. Witli the following morning, they saw seven 
barges rowing up the river, bristling with weapons and 
crowded with men in armor. The sentries on the bluff 
challenged, and received no answer. One of them fired 
at the advancing boats. Still there was no response. 
Laudonniere was almost defenceless. He had given his 
heavier cannon to Hawkins, and only two field-pieces 
were left. They were levelled at the foremost bo;its, 
and the word to fire was about to be given, when a 
voice from among the strangers called out that they 
were French, commanded by Jean Ribaut. 

At the eleventh hour, the long-looked-for succors 
were come. Ribaut had been commissioned to sail 
with seven ships for Florida. A disorderly concourse 



1565.] EEMOVAL OF LAUDONNIERE. 33 

of disbanded soldiers, mixed with artisans and their 
famihes, and young nobles weary of a two-years' peace, 
were mustered at the port of Dieppe, and embarked, to 
the number of three hundred men, bearing with them 
all things thought necessary to a prosperous colony. 

No longer in dread of the Spaniards, the colonists 
saluted the new-comers with the cannon by which a 
moment before they had hoped to blovv^ them out of 
the water. Laudonniere issued from his stronghold to 
welcome them, and regaled them with what cheer he 
could. Ribaut was present, conspicuous by his long 
beard, an astonishment to the Indians ; and here, too, 
were officers, old friends of Laudonniere. Why, then, 
had they approached in the attitude of enemies "? The 
mystery was soon explained ; for they expressed to the 
commandant their pleasure at finding that the charges 
made against him had j)roved false. He begged to know 
more; on which Ribaut, taking him aside, told him that 
the returning ships had brought home letters filled with 
accusations of arrogance, tyranny, cruelty, and a pur- 
pose of establishing an independent command : accusa- 
tions which he now saw to be unfounded, but which had 
been the occasion of his unusual and startling precau- 
tion. He gave him, too, a letter from the Admiral 
Coligny. In brief but courteous terms, it required him 
to resign his command, and requested his return to 
France to clear his name from the imputations cast 
upon it,^ Ribaut warmly urged him to remain ; but 
Laudonniere declined his friendly proposals. 

1 See the letter in Basanier, 102. 



34. PAMINE. — WAR. — SUCCOR. [1665. 

Worn in body and mind, mortified and wounded, he 
soon fell ill again. A peasant-woman attended him, 
who was brought over, he says, to nurse the sick and 
take charge of the poultry, and of whom Le Moyne 
also speaks as a servant, but vi^ho had been made the 
occasion of additional charges against him, most offen- 
sive to the austere Admiral. 

Stores were landed, tents were pitched, women and 
children were sent on shore, feathered Indians mingled 
in the throng, and the borders of the River of May 
swarmed with busy life. " But, lo, how oftentimes 
misfortune doth search and pursue us, even then when 
we thinke to be at rest ! " exclaims the unhappy Lau- 
donniere. Amidst the light and cheer of renovated 
hope, a cloud of blackest omen was gathering in the 
east. 

At half-past eleven on the night of Tuesday, the 
fourth of September, the crew of Ribaut's flag-ship, 
anchored on the still sea outside the bar, saw a huge 
hulk, grim with the throats of cannon, drifting towards 
them through the gloom ; and from its stern rolled on 
the sluggish air the portentous banner of Spain. 



CHAPTER VII. 

1565. 
MENENDEZ. 

Spain. — Pedro Menejtdez de Aviles. — His Boyhood. — His Early Ca- 
reer. — His Petition to the King. — Commissioned to conquer Flor- 
ida- — His Powers. — His Designs. — A New Crusade. — Sailing of the 
Spanish Fleet. — A Storm. — Porto Rico. — Energy of Mknendez. — 
He reaches Florida. — Attacks Ribaut's Ships. — Founds St. Augus- 
tine. — Alarm of the French. — Bold Decision of Ribaut. — De- 
fenceless Condition of Fort Caroline. — Eibaut thwarted. — Tem- 
pest. — Menendez marches on the French Fort. — His Dksperate 
Position. — The Fort taken. — The Massacre. — The Fugitives. 

The monk, the inquisitor, the Jesuit, these were the 
lords of Spain, — sovereigns of her sovereign,' for they 
had formed the dark and narrow mind of that tyranni- 
cal recluse. They had formed the minds of her people, 
quenched in blood every spark of rising heresy, and 
given over a noble nation to a bigotry bhnd and inex- 
orable as the doom of fate. Linked with pride, am- 
bition, avarice, every passion of a rich, strong nature, 
potent for good and ill, it made the Spaniard of that 
day a scourge as dire as ever fell on man. 

Day was breaking on the world. Light, hope, free- 
dom, pierced with vitalizing ray the clouds and the mi- 
asma that hung so thick over the prostrate Middle Age, 
once noble and mighty, now a foul image of decay and 
death. Kindled with new life, the nations gave birth to 
a progeny of heroes, and the stormy glories of the six- 
8 



3f) MENENDEZ. [1565. 

teenth century rose on awakened Europe. But Spain 
was the citadel of darkness, — a monastic cell, an in- 
quisitorial dungeon, where no ray could pierce. She 
was the bulwark of the Church, against whose adaman- 
tine wall the waves of innovation beat in vain.^ In 
every country of Europe the party of freedom and re- 
form was the national party, the party of reaction and 
absolutism was the Spanish party, leaning on Spain, 
looking to her for help. Above all, it was so in France; 
and, while within her bounds there was a semblance of 
peace, the national and religious rage burst forth on a 
wilder theatre. Thither it is for us to follow it, where, 
on the shores of Florida, the Spaniard and the French- 
man, the bigot and the Huguenot, met in the grapple 
of death. 

In a corridor of his palace, Philip the Second was 
met by a man who had long stood waiting his approach, 
and who with proud reverence placed a petition in the 
hand of the pale and sombre King. The petitioner was 
Pedro Menendez de Aviles, one of the ablest and most 
distinguished officers of the Spanish marine. He was 
born of an ancient Asturian family. His boyhood had 
been wayward, ungovernable, and fierce. He ran oif 
at eight years of age, and when, after a search of six 
months, he was found and brought back, he ran off 

1 "Better a ruined kingdom, true to itself and its king, than one left 
unharmed to the profit of the devil and the heretics." — Correspondance de 
Philippe II., cited by Prescott, Philip IL, Bk. III. c. II. note 36. 

" A prince can do nothing more sliameful or more hurtful to himself, 
than to permit his people to live according to their conscience." — Tht 
Duke of Alca, in Davila, 1. III. p. 341. 



1565.] HIS EAELY CAREER. 3*7 

again. This time he was more successful, escaping on 
board a fleet bound against the Barbary corsairs, when 
his precocious appetite for blood and blows had reason- 
able contentment. A few years later, he found means 
to build a small vessel, in which he cruised against the 
corsairs and the French, and, though still hardly more 
than a boy, displayed a singular address and daring. 
The wonders of the New World now seized his imagi- 
nation. He made a voyage thither, and the ships un- 
der his charge came back freighted with wealth. The 
war with France was then at its height. As captain- 
general of the fleet, he was sent with troops to Flan- 
ders; and to their prompt arrival was due, it is said, the 
victory of St. Quentin. Two years later, he com- 
manded the luckless armada which bore back Philip to 
his native shore. On the way, the King narrowly 
escaped drowning in a storm off the port of Laredo. 
This mischance, or his own violence and insubordina- 
tion, wrought to the prejudice of Menendez. He com- 
plained that his services were ill repaid. Philip lent 
him a favoring ear, and despatched him to the Indies as 
general of the fleet and army. Here he found means 
to amass vast riches; and, in 1561, on his return to 
Spain, charges were brought against him of a nature 
which his too friendly biographer does not explain. The 
Council of the Indies arrested him. He was imprisoned 
and sentenced to a heavy fine, but, gaining his release, 
hastened to court to throw himself on the royal clem- 



ency.^ 



1 Barciaj (Cardenas 7 Cano,) Ensayo Cronologico, 57-64. 



SS MENENDEZ. [1565. 

His petition was most graciously received. Philip 
restored his command, but remitted only half his fine, a 
strong- presumption of his guilt. 

Menendez kissed the royal hand; he had still a peti- 
tion in reserve. His son had been wrecked near the 
Bermudas, and he would fain go thither to find tidings of 
his fate. The pious King bade him trust in God, and 
promised that he should be despatched without delay to 
the Bermudas and to Florida with a commission to 
make an exact survey of those perilous seas for the 
profit of future voyagers ; but Menendez was ill con- 
tent with such an errand. He knew, he said, nothing 
of greater moment to His Majesty than the conquest 
and settlement of Florida. The climate was healthful,, 
the soil fertile ; and, worldly advantages aside, it was 
peopled by a race sunk in the thickest shades of infi- 
delity. " Such grief," he pursued, " seizes me, when 1 
behold this multitude of wretched Indians, that I should 
choose the conquest and settling- of Florida above all 
commands, offices, and dignities which your Majesty 
might bestow." ^ Those who think this to be hypoc- 
risy do not know the Spaniard of the sixteenth century. 

The King was edified by his zeal. An enterprise 
of such spiritual and temporal promise was not to be 
slighted, and Menendez was empowered to conquer and 
convert Florida at his own cost. The conquest was to 
be effected within three years. Menendez was to take 
with him five hundred men, and supply them with five 
hundred slaves, besides horses, cattle, sheep, and hogs. 

^ Barcia, (Cardenas y Cano,) Ensayo Cronologico, 65. 



1566.] HIS COMMISSIOK §9 

Villages were to be built, with torts to defend them ; 
and sixteen ecclesiastics, of whom four should be Jesu- 
its, were to form the nucleus of a Floridian church. 
The King, on his part, granted Menendez free trade 
with Hispauiola, Porto Rico, Cuba, and Spain, the of- 
fice of Adelantado of Florida for life with the right of 
naming his successor, and large emoluments to be 
drawn from the expected conquest.^ 

The compact struck, Menendez hastened to his native 
Asturias to raise money among his relatives. Scarcely 
was he gone, when tidings reached Madrid that Florida 
was already occupied by a colony of I'^rench Protes- 
tants, and that a reinforcement, under Ribaut, was on 
the point of sailing thither. A French historian of 
high authority declares, that these advices came from 
the Catholic party at the French court, in whom every 
instinct of patriotism was lost in their hatred of Coligny 
and the Huguenots. Of this there can be little doubt, 
though information also came about this time from the 
buccaneer Frenchmen captured in the West Indies. 
'■y Foreigners had invaded the territory of Spain. The 
trespassers, too, were heretics, foes of God and liege- 
men of the Devil. Their doom was fixed. But how 
would France endure an assault, in time of peace, on 
subjects who- had gone forth on an enterprise sanc- 
tioned by the crown, and undertaken in its name and 
under its commission \ 



The above is from Barcia, as the original compact has not been founu. 
For the patent conferring the title of Adelantado, see Colecciou de Variat 
Documentos, I. 13. 

8« 



90 MENENDEZ. [1565 

The throne of France, \^'here the corruption of the 
nation seemed gathered to a head, was trembling be- 
tween the two parties of the Cathohcs and the Hugue- 
nots, whose chiefs aimed at royalty. Flattering both, 
caressing both, playing one against the other, and be- 
traying both, Catherine de Medicis, by a thousand 
crafty arts and expedients of the moment, sought to 
retain the crown on the head of her weak and vicious 
son. Of late her crooked policy had led her towards 
tlje Catholic party, in other words, the party of Spain ; 
and already she had given ear to the sav^age Duke of 
Alva, urging her to the course which, seven years later, 
led to the carnage of St. Bartholomew. In short, the 
Spanish policy was in the ascendant, and no thought of 
the national interest or honor could restrain that basest 
of courts from consigning by hundreds to the national 
enemy those whom it was itself meditating to immolate 
by thousands.-^ 

Menendez was summoned back in haste to the Span- 
ish court. There was counsel, deep and ominous, in 
the palace of Madrid. His force must be strength- 
ened. Three hundred and ninety-four men were added 
at the royal charge, and a corresponding number of 
trar.sport and supply ships. It was a holy war, a crusade, 
and as such was preached by priest and monk along the 
western coasts of Spain. All the Biscayan ports flamed 
with zeal, and adventurers crowded to enroll themselves ; 

1 The French Jesuit, Cliarlevoix, says: — "On avoit donnc a cette 
expedition tout I'air d'une guerre sainte, entreprise contre les Ilere'tiques 
de concert avec le Roy de France." Nor does Cliarlevoix seem to doubt 
this complicity of Charles the Ninth in an attack on his own subjects. 



It565.] THE NEW CRUSADE. 9I 

since to plunder heretics is good for the soul as well as 
the purse^ and broil and massacre have double attrac- 
tion, when promoted into a means of salvation : a fer- 
vor, deep and hot, but not of celestial kindling-; nor yet 
that buoyant and inspiring zeal, which, wlien the Mid- 
dle Age was in its youth and prime, glowed in the soul 
of Tancred, Godfrey, and St. Louis, and which, when 
its day was long since past, could still find its home in 
the great heart of Columbus. A darker spirit urged 
the new crusade, — born, not of hope, but of fear, slav- 
ish in its nature, the creature and the tool of despotism. 
For the typical Spaniard of the sixteenth century was 
not in strictness a fanatic ; he was bigotry incarnate. 

Heresy was a plague-spot, an ulcer to be eradicated 
with fire and the knife, and this foul abomination was 
infecting the shores which the Vicegerent of Christ had 
given to the King of Spain, and which the Most Catho- 
lic King had given to the Adelantado. Thus would 
countless heathen tribes be doomed to an eternity of 
flame, and the Prince of Darkness hold his ancient 
sway unbroken. And, for the Adelantado himself, 
should the vast outlays, the vast debts, of his bold 
Floridian venture be all in vain ] Should his fortunes 
be wrecked past redemption through these tools of 
Satan 1 As a Catholic, as a Spaniard, as an adven- 
turer, his course was clear. 

But what was the scope of this enterprise, and what 
were the limits of the Adelantado's authority ? He was 
invested with power almost absolute, not merely over 
the peninsula which now retains the name of Florida, 



g£ MENENDEZ. [1565. 

but over all North America, from Labrador to Mexico, 
— for this was the Florida of the old Spanish geog- 
raphers, and the Florida designated in the commission 
of Menendez. It was a continent which he \vas to con- 
quer and occupy out of his own purse. The impover- 
ished King contracted with his daring and ambitious 
subject to win and hold for him the territory of the 
future United States and British Provinces. His plan, 
as subsequently exposed at length in his unpublished 
letters to Philip the Second, was, first, to plant a gar- 
rison at Port Royal, and next to fortify strongly on 
Chesapeake Bay, called by him St. Mary's. He be- 
lieved that this bay was an arm of the sea, running 
northward and eastward, and communicating with the 
Gulf of St. Lawrence, thus making New England, 
with adjacent districts, an island. His proposed fort on 
the Chesapeake, securing access, by this imaginary pas- 
sage, to the seas of Newfoundland, would enable the 
Spaniards to command the fisheries, on Avhich both the 
French and the Eno'lish had long encroached, to the 
great prejudice of Spanish rights. Doubtless, too, these 
inland waters gave access to the South Sea, and their 
occupation was necessary to prevent the French from 
penetrating thither ; for that ambitious people, since the 
time of Cartier, had never abandoned their schemes of 
seizing this portion of the dominions of the King of 
Spain. Five hundred soldiers and one hundred sailors 
must, he urges, take possession, without delay, of Port 
Royal and the Chesapeake.^ 

^ Cart-xs escr'itas al Rey por el General Pew Menendez de Avile's, MSS. 



Ib65.l HIS ARMAMENT. 



93 



Preparation for his enterprise was pushed with a fu- 
rious enei'gy. His whole force amounted to two thou- 
sand six hundred and forty-six persons, in thirty-four 
vessels, one of which, the San Pelayo, bearing Menen- 
dez himself, was of nine hundred and ninety -six tons' 
burden, and is described as one of the finest ships afloat.-^ 
There were twelve Franciscans and eight Jesuits, be- 
sides other ecclesiastics ; and many knights of Galicia, 
Biscay, and the Asturias took part in the expedition. 
With a slight exception, the whole was at the Adelanta- 
do's charge. Within the first fourteen months, accord- 
ing to his admirer, Barcia, the adventure cost him a 
million ducats.^ 

Before the close of the year, Saucho de Arciniega 

These are the official despatches of Menendez, of which tlie originals are 
preserved in tlie archives of Seville. They are very voluminous and 
minute in detail. Copies of them were obtained by the aid of Bucking- 
ham Smith, Esq., to whom the writer is also indebted for various other 
documents from the same source, throwing new light on the events 
described. Menendez calls Port Royal, St. Elena, a name afterwards 
applied to the sound which still retains it. Compare Historical Maga- 
zine, IV. 320. 

1 This was not so remarkable as it may appear. Charnock, History of 
Marine Architerture, gives the tonnage of the ships of the Invincible Ar- 
mada. The flag -ship of the Andalusian squadron was of fitteen hun- 
dred and fifty tons. Several were above twelve hundred. 

^ Barcia, 69. The following passage in one of the unpublisiied letters 
of Menendez seems to indicate that the above is exaggerated : — " Your 
Majesty may be assured by me, that, liad I a million, more or less, I 
would employ and spend the whole in this undertaking, it being so great- 
ly to [the glory of] God our Lord, and the increase of our Holy Catholic 
Faith, and the service and authority of your Majesty ; and thus I have 
otFered to our Lord whatever He sliall give me in this world, [and what- 
ever] I shall possess, gain, or acquire, shall be devoted to the planting of 
the gospel in this land, and the enlightenment of the natives thereof, and 
this I do promise to your Majesty." This letter is dated 11 September, 
1665. 



94i MENENDEZ. [1565. 

was commissioned to join Menendez with an additional 
force of fifteen hundred men.^ 

Red-hot with a determined purpose, the Adelantado 
would brook no delay. To him, says the chronicler, 
every day seemed a year. He was eager to anticipate 
Ribaut, of whose desitrns and whose force he seems to 
have been informed to the minutest particular, but whom 
he hoped to thwart and ruin by gaining Fort Caroline 
before him. With eleven ships, therefore, he sailed from 
Cadiz on the twenty-ninth of June, 1565, leaving the 
smaller vessels of his fleet to follow with what speed 
they might. He touched first at the Canaries, and on 
the eighth of July left them, steering for Dominica. 
A minute account of the voyage has come down to us, 
written by Mendoza, chaplain of the expedition, a some- 
what dull and illiterate person, who busily jots down 
the incidents of each passing day, and is constantly 
betraying, with a certain awkward simplicity, how the 
cares of this world and of the next jostle each other 
in his thoughts. 

On Friday, the twentieth of July, a storm fell upon 
them with appalling fury. The pilots lost their wits, the 
sailors gave themselves up to their terrors. Through- 
out the night, they beset Mendoza for confession and 
absolution, a boon not easily granted, for the sens swept 
the crowded decks with cataracts of foam, and the 
shriekings of the gale in the rigging overpowered the 
exhortations of the half- drowned priest. Cannon, 

1 Arte de 1565. Nomhramiento de Capitan- General de In Armada destinada 
para yr a la Provincia de la Florida al socorro del General Pero Menendez de 
Aviles, hecho por Su Magestad al Capitan Sancho de Arciniega. AIS. 



1565.1 REACHES PORTO RICO. 95 

cables, spars, water-casks, were thrown overboard and 
the chests of the sailors would have followed, had not 
the latter, in spite of their fright, raised such a howl of 
remonstrance that the order was revoked. At length 
day dawned. Plunging, reeling, half submerged, quiv- 
ering under the shock of th^ seas, whose mountain 
ridges rolled down upon her before the gale, the ship 
lay in deadly peril from Friday till Monday noon. 
Then the storm abated ; the sun broke forth ; and 
again she held her course.^ 

They reached Dominica on Sunday, the fifth of 
August. The chaplain tells us how he went on shore 
to refresh himself, — how, while his Italian servant 
washed his linen at a brook, he strolled along the 
beach and picked up shells, — and how he was scared, 
first, by a prodigious turtle, and next by a vision of 
the cannibal natives, which caused his prompt retreat to 
the boats. 

On the tenth, they anchored in the harbor of Porto 
Rico, where they found two ships of their squadron, 
from which they had parted in the storm. One of 
them was the San Pelayo,.with Menendez on board. 
Mendoza informs us, that in the evening the officers 
came on board the ship to which he was attached, when 
he, the chaplain, regaled them with sweetmeats, and tiiat 
Menendez invited him not only to supper that night, 
but to dinner the next day, " for the which I thanked 
him, as reason was," says the gratified churchman. 

1 Mendoza in Ternaux-Compans, Floride, 168 ; Letter of Menendez to 
the King, 13 August, 1565, MS. 



95 MENENDEZ. [1565. 

Here thirty men deserted, and three priests also ran 
off, of which Mendoza bitterly complains, as increasing 
his own work. The motives of the clerical truants 
may perhaps be inferred from a worldly temptation to 
which the chaplain himself was subjected. " I was 
offered the service of a chapel where I should have got 
a peso for every' mass I said, the whole year round ; 
but I did not accept it, for fear that what I hear said 
of the other three would be said of me. Besides, it is 
not a place where one can hope for any great advance- 
ment, and I wished to try whether, in refusing a bene- 
fice for the love of the Lord, He will not repay me with 
some other stroke of fortune before the end of the voy- 
age ; for it is my aim to serve God and His blessed 
Mother." 1 

The original design had been to rendezvous at Ha- 
vana, but, with the Adelantado, the advantages of 
despatch outweighed every other consideration. He 
resolved to push directly for Florida. Five of his 
scattered ships had by this time rejoined company, com- 
prising, exclusive of officers, a force of about five hun- 
dred soldiers, two hundred sailors, and one hundred 
colonists.^ Bearing north vvard, he advanced by an un- 
known and dangerous course along the coast of Hayti 
and through the intricate passes of the Bahamas. On 
the night of the twenty-sixth, the San Pelayo struck 
three times on the shoals ; " but," says the chaplain, 
" inasmuch as our enterprise was undertaken for the 

1 Mendoza in Ternaux-Compans, Floride, 177, — a close translation. 
" Letter of Menendez to the King, 11 September, 1565, MS. 



t»5fi.5.I HIS ENERGY. — A MIEACLE. 07 

sake of Christ and His blessed Mother, two heavy seas 
struck her abaft, and set her afloat again." 

At length the ships lay becalmed in the Bahama 
Channel, slumbering on the glassy sea, torpid with the 
heats of a West-Indian August. Menendez called a 
council of the commanders. There was doubt and in- 
decision. Perhaps Ribaut had already reached the 
French fort, and then to attack the united force would 
be an act of desperation. Far better to await their 
lagging comrades. But the Adelantado was of an- 
other mind; and, even had his enemy arrived, he was 
resolved that he should have no time to fortify him- 
self. 

" It is God's will," he said, " that our victory should 
be due, not to our numbers, but to His all-powerful 
aid. Therefore has He stricken us with tempests and 
scattered our ships." ^ And he gave his voice for in- 
stant advance. 

There was much dispute; even the chaplain remon- 
strated ; but nothing could bend the iron will of Me- 
nendez. Nor was a sign of celestial approval wanting. 
At nine in the evening, a great meteor burst forth in 
mid-heaven, and, blazing like the sun, rolled westward 
towards the coast of Florida.^ The fainting spirits of 
the crusaders were revived. Diligent preparation was 
begun. Prayers and masses were said ; and, that the 
temporal arm might not fail, the men were daily 
practised on deck in shooting at marks, in order, says 

1 Barcia, 70. 

2 Mendoza, 192 : " Le Seigneur nous Jit voir un miracle dans le del," etc. 

9 



98 MENENDEZ. [1565. 

the chronicle, that the recruits might learn not to be 
afraid of their guns. 

The (lead calm continued. " We were all very 
tired," says the chaplain, " and I above all, with praying- 
to God for a fair wind. To-day, at about two in the 
afternoon, He took pity on us, and sent us a breeze."-^ 
Before night they saw land, — the faint line of forest, 
traced along the watery horizon, that marked the coast 
of Florida. But where, in all this vast monotony, was 
the lurking-place of the French 1 Menendez anchored, 
and sent fifty men ashore, who presently found a band 
of Indians in the woods, and gained from them the 
needed information. He stood northward, till, on the 
afternoon of Tuesday, the fourth of September, he 
descried four ships anchored near the mouth of a river. 
It was the River St. John's, and the ships were four of 
Ribaut's squadron. The prey was in sight. The 
Spaniards prepared for battle, and bore down upon the 
Lutherans; for, with them, all Protestants alike were 
branded with the name of the arch-heretic. Slowly, 
before the faint breeze, the ships glided on their way ; 
but while, excited and impatient, the fierce crews 
"watched the decreasing space, and when they were still 
three leagues from their prize, the air ceased to stir, the 
sails flapped against the mast, a black cloud with thun- 
der rose above the coast, and the warm rain of the 
South descended on the breathless sea. It was dark 
before the wind moved again and the ships resumed 
their course. At half- past eleven they reached the 

^ Mendoza, 193. 



1565.] ATTACKS THE FEENCH. gg 

French. The San Pelayo slowly moved to windward 
of Ribaut's flag-ship, the Trinity, and anchored very 
near her. The other ships took similar stations. While 
these preparations were making, a work of two hours, 
the men labored in silence, and the French, thronging 
their gangways, looked on in equal silence. " Never, 
since I came into the world," writes the chaplain, " did 
I know such a stillness." 

It was broken, at length, by a trumpet from the deck 
of the San Pelayo. A French trumpet answered. 
Then Menendez, "with much courtesy," says his Span- 
ish eulogist, inquired, " Gentlemen, whence does this 
fleet come 1 " 

" From France," was the reply. 

" What are you doing here 1 " pursued the Adelan- 
tado. 

" Bringing soldiers and supplies for a fort which the 
King of France has in this country, and for many 
others which he soon will have." 

" Are you Catholics or Lutherans 1 " 

Many voices cried out together, " Lutherans, of the 
new religion ; " then, in their turn, they demanded who 
Menendez was, and whence he came. He answered, — 

" I am Pedro Menendez, General of the fleet of the 
King of Spain, Don Philip the Second, who have come 
to this country to hang and behead all Lutherans whom 
I shall find by land or sea, according to instructions 
from my King, so precise that I have power to pardon 
none; and these commands I shall fulfil, as you will 
see. At daybreak I shall board your ships, and if I 



100 MENENDEZ (1565 

find there any Catholic, he shall be well treated ; but 
every heretic shall die." ^ 

The French with one voice raised a cry of wrath 
and defiance. 

" If you are a brave man, don't wait till day. Come 
on now, and see what you will get ! " 

And they assailed the Adelantado with a shower of 
scoffs and insults. 

Menendez broke into a rage, and gave the order to 
board. The men slipped the cables, and the sullen 
black hulk of the San Pelayo drifted down upon the 
Trinity. The French by no means made good their 
defiance. Indeed, they were incapable of resistance, 
Ribaut with his soldiers being ashore at Fort Caroline. 
They cut their cables, left their anchors, made sail, and 
fled. The Spaniards fired, the French replied. The 
other Spanish ships had imitated the movement of the 
San Pelayo ; " but," writes the chaplain, Mendoza, 
" these devils run mad are such adroit sailors, and ma- 

1 " Pedro Menendez os lo pregunta, General de esta Armada del Rei 
de Espana Don Felipe Segundo, qui viene a esta Tierra a ahorcar, y 
degollar todos los Luteranos, que liallare en ella, y en el Mar, segun la 
Instruccion, que trae de mi Rei, que es tan precisa, que me priva de la 
facultad de perdonarlos, y la cumplire en todo, como lo vereis luego que 
amanezca, que entrare en vuestros Navios, y si liallare algun Catolico, 
le hare buen tratamiento ; pero el que fuere Herege, morira." — Barcia, 75. 
The following is the version, literally given, of Menendez himself: — 
" I answered them : ' Pedro Menendez, wlio was going by your Majes- 
ty's command to this coast and country in order to burn and destroy the 
Lutheran French who should be found there, and that in the morning I 
would board their ships to find out whether they belonged to tliat people, 
because, iu case they did, I could not do otherwise than execute upon 
them that justice which your Majesty had ordained.' " — Letter of Menen- 
dez to the Kina, 11 Septeriiber, 1565, MS. 



1565.] FOUNDS ST. AUGUSTINE. JQl 

nojuvred so well, that we did not catch one of them." ^ 
Pursuers and pursued ran out to sea, firing" useless vol- 
leys at each other. 

In the morning Menendez gave over the chase, 
turned, and, with the San Pelayo alone, ran back for 
the St. John's. But here a welcome was prepared for 
him. He saw bands of armed men drawn up on the 
beach, and the smaller vessels of Ribaut's squadron,' 
which had crossed the bar several days before, anchored 
behind it to oppose his landing. He would not ven- 
ture an attack, but, steering southward, sailed along 
the coast till he came to an inlet which he named San 
Agustin. 

Here he found three of his ships, already debarking 
their troops, guns, and stores. Two officers, Patiiio 
and Vicente, had taken possession of the dwelling of 
the Indian chief Seloy, a huge barn - like structure, 
strongly framed of entire trunks of trees, and thatched 

1 " Mais, comme ces diables enrages sont tres-habiles sur mer," etc. — 
Mendoza, 200. 

Tlie above account is that of Barcia, the admirer and advocate of Me- 
nendez. A few points have been added from Mendoza, as indicated by the 
citations. One statement of Barcia is omitted, because there can be little 
doubt that it is false. He says, that, when the Spanish fleet approached, 
the French opened a heavj^ tire on them. Neither the fanatical Mendoza, 
who was present, nor the French writers, Laudonniere, Le Moyne, and 
Challeux, mention this circumstance, which, besides, can scarcely be 
reconciled with the subsequent conduct of either party. Mendoza differs 
from Barcia also in respect to the time of the attack, which he places 
"deux hewes apres le coucher du soleil." In other points his story tallies as 
nearly as could be expected with that of Barcia. The same may be 
said of Challeux and Laudonniere. The latter saj's, that the Spaniards, 
before attacking, asked after the French officers by name, whence he in* 
fers that they had received very minute information from France. 
9* 



102 MENENDEZ. fl565. 

with palmetto-leaves.^ Around it they wore throwing 
up intrenchments of fascines and sand. Gangs of 
negroes, with pick, shovel, and spade, were toiling at 
the work. Such was the birth of St. Augustine, the 
oldest town of the United States, and such the intro- 
duction of slave-labor upon their soil. 

On the eighth, Menendez took formal possession of 
his domain. Cannon were fired, trumpets sounded, and 
banners displayed, as, at the head of his officers and 
nobles, he landed in state. Mendoza, crucifix in hand, 
came to meet him, chanting, " Te Deum laudamus,'^ 
while the Adelantado and all his company, kneeling, 
kissed the crucifix, and the assembled Indians gazed in 
silent wonder.^ 

Meanwhile the tenants of Fort Caroline were not 
idle. Two or three soldiers, strolling along the beach 
in the afternoon, had first seen the Spanish ships and 
hastily summoned Ribaut. He came down to the mouth 
of the river, followed by an anxious and excited crowd ; 
but, as they strained their eyes through the darkness, 
they could see nothing but the flashes of the distant 
guns. At length, the returning light showed, fl^r out 
at sea, the Adelantado in hot chase of their flying 
comrades. Pursuers and pursued were soon out of 
sight. The drums beat to arms. After many hours 
of suspense, the San Pelayo reappeared, hovering about 
the mouth of the river, then bearing away towards the 

1 Compare Hawkins, Second Voyage. He visited this or some similar 
Btructure, and his journalist minutely describes it. 

2 Mendoza. 204. 



1565.] DECISION OF EIBAUT. JQ-S 

south. More anxious hours ensued, when three other 
sail came in sight, and they recognized three of their 
own returning ships. Communication was opened, a 
boat's crew landed, and they learned from Cosette, one 
of the French captains, that, confiding in the speed of 
his ship, he had followed the Spaniards to St. Augus- 
tine, reconnoitred their position, and seen them land 
their negroes and intrench themselves.^ 

In his chamber at Fort Caroline, Laudonniere lay 
sick in bed, when Ribaut entered, and with him La 
Grange, Sainte Marie, Ottigny, Yonville, and other 
officers. At the bedside of the displaced commandant, 
they held their council of war. Three plans were pro- 
posed: first, to remain where they were and fortify; 
next, to push overland for St. Augustine, and attack 
the invaders in their intrenchments ; and, finally, to 
embark, and assail them by sea. The first plan would 
leave their ships a prey to the Spaniards ; and so too, 
in all likelihood, would the second, besides the uncer- 
tainties of an overland march through an unknown 
wilderness. By sea, the distance was short and the 
route explored. By a sudden blow they could capture 
or destroy the Spanish ships, and master the troops 
on shore before reinforcements could arrive, and before 
they had time to complete their defences.^ 

1 Laudonniere in Basanier, 105. Le Moyne differs in a few trifling de- 
tails. 

2 Ribaut showed Laudonniere a letter from Coligny, appended to which 
were these words, — " Capitaine Jean Ribaut: En fermant ceste lettre 
i'ay eu certain aduis, corame dom Petro Melandes se part d'Espagne, pour 
aller a la coste de la Nouvelle Frace : Vous regarderez de n'endurer qu'il 



104i MENENDEZ. [1665. 

Such were the views of Ribaut, with which, not 
unnaturally, Laudonniere finds fault, and Le Moyne 
echoes the censures of his chief. And yet the plan 
seems as well conceived as it was bold, lacking noth- 
ing- but success. The Spaniards, stricken with ter- 
ror, owed their safety to the elements, or, as they 
affirm, to the special interposition of the Holy Virgin. 
Let us be just to Menendez. He was a leader fit to 
stand with Cortes and Pizarro ; but he was matched 
with a man as cool, skilful, prompt, and daring as him- 
self. The traces that have come down to us indicate, 
in Ribaut, one far above the common stamp : " a dis- 
tinguished man, of many high qualities," as even the 
fault-finding Le Moyne calls him ; devout after the best 
spirit of the Reform ; and with a human heart under 
his steel breastplate. \- 

La Grange and other officers took part with Laudon- 
niere and opposed the plan of an attack by sea; but 
Ribaut's conviction was unshaken, and the order was 
given. All his own soldiers fit for duty embarked in 
haste, and with them went La Caille, Arlac, and, as it 
seems, Ottigny, with the best of Laudonniere's men. 
Even Le Moyne, though wounded in the fight with 
Outina's warriors, went on board to bear his part in 
the fray, and would have sailed with the rest, had not 
Ottigny, seeing his disabled condition, ordered him 
back to the fort. 



n'entrepreine sur nous, non plus qu il veut que nous n'entreprenions sur 
eux." Ribaut interpreted tliis into a command to attack the Spaniards. 
Laudonniere, 106. 



1665.] FORT CAROLINE DEFENCELESS. X0.5 

On the tenth, the ships, crowded with troops, set 
sail. Ribaut was gone, and with him the bone and 
sinew of the colony. The miserable remnant watched 
his receding sails with dreary foreboding, a foreboding 
which seemed but too just, when, on the next day, a 
storm, more violent than the Indians had ever known/ 
howled through the forest and lashed the ocean into 
fury. Most forlorn vras the plight of these exiles, left, 
it might be, the prey of a band of ferocious bigots 
more terrible than the fiercest hordes of the w^ilderness. 
And, when night closed on the stormy river and the 
gloomy waste of pines, what dreams of terror may not 
have haunted the helpless women who crouched under 
the hovels of Fort Caroline ! 

The fort was in a ruinous state, with the palisade on 
the water side broken down, and three breaches in the 
rampart. In the driving rain, urged by the sick Lau- 
donniere, the men, bedrenched and disheartened, labored 
as they might to strengthen their defences. Their mus- 
ter - roll shows but a beggarly array. V" Now," says 
Laudonniere, " let them which have bene bold to say 
that I had men ynough left me, so that I had meanes 
to defend my selfe, give eare a little now vnto mee, and 
if they have eyes in their heads, let them see what men 
I had." Of Ribaut's followers left at the fort, only 
nine or ten had weapons, while only two or three knew 
how to use them. Four of them were boys, who kept 
Ribaut's dogs, and another was his cook. Besides 
these, he had left a brewer, an old cross-bow-maker, 

1 Laudonniere, 107. 



106 MENENDEZ. [1566. 

two shoemakers, a player on the spinet, four valets, a 
carpenter of threescore, — Challeux, no doubt, who 
has left us the story of his woes, — with a crowd of 
women, children, and eighty-six camp-followers.^ To 
these were adfled the remnant of Laudonniere's men, 
of whom seventeen could bear arms, the rest being- 
sick or disabled by wounds received in the fight with 
Outina. 

Laudonniere divided his force, such as it was, into 
two watches, over which he placed two officers, Saint 
Cler and La Vigne, gave them lanterns for going the 
rounds, and an hour-glass for setting the time ; while 
he himself, giddy with weakness and fever, was every 
night at the guard-room. 

It was the night of the nineteenth of September; 
floods of rain drenched the sentries on the rampart, 
and, as day dawned on the dripping barracks and 
deluged parade, the storm increased in violence. What 
enemy could venture forth on such a night? La 
Vigne, who had the watch, took pity on the sentries 
and on himself, dismissed them, and went to his quar- 
ters. He little knew what human energies, urged by 
ambition, avarice, bigotry, and desperation, will dare 
and do. 

To return to the Spaniards at St. Augustine. On 
the morning of the eleventh, the crew of one of their 
smaller vessels, lying outside the bar, saw through the 
twilight of early dawn two of Ribaut's ships close upon 

1 The muster-roll is from Laudonniere. Hakluyt's translation is incor- 
rect. 



1565.] HIS DESPERATE RESOLUTION. KJjf 

them. Not a breath of air was stirring. There was 
no escape, and the Spaniards fell on their knees in sup- 
plication to Our Lady of Utrera, explaining to her that 
the heretics were upon them, and begging her to send 
them a little wind. " Forthwith," says Mendoza, " one 
would have said that Our Lady herself came down 
upon tlie vessel." ^ A wind sprang up, and the Span- 
iards found refuge behind the bar. The returning day 
showed to their astonished eyes all the ships of Ribaut, 
their decks black with men, hovering off the entrance 
of the port ; but Heaven had them in its charge, and 
again they experienced its protecting care. The breeze 
sent by Our Lady of Utrera rose to a gale, then to a 
furious tempest ; and the grateful Adelantado saw 
through rack and mist the ships of his enemy tossed 
wildly among the raging waters as they struggled to 
gain an offing. With exultation in his heart the skil- 
ful seaman read their danger, and saw them in his 
mind's eye dashed to utter wreck among the sand-bars 
and breakers of the lee-shore. 

A bold thought seized him. He would march over- 
land with five hundred men, and attack Fort Caroline 
while its defenders were absent. First he ordered a 
mass ; then he called a council. Doubtless it was in 
that great Indian lodge of Seloy, where he had made 
his head-quarters; and here, in this dim and smoky 
abode, nobles, officers, and priests gathered at his sum- 

1 Mendoza, 208. Menendez, too, imputes the escape to divine interpo- 
sition. " Our Lord permitted by a miracle that we should be saved." 
Letter of Menendez to the lung, 15 October, 1565, MS. 



108 MENENDEZ. 11565. 

inons. There were fears and doubts and murmurino's, 
but Menendez was desperate ; not with the mad despera- 
tion that strikes wildly and at random, but the still white 
heat that melts and burns and seethes with a steady, 
unquenchable fierceness. " Comrades," he said, " the 
time has come to show our courage and our zeal. Tliis 
is God's war, and we must not flinch. It is a war with 
Lutherans, and we must wage it with blood and fire." ^ 

But his hearers would not respond. They had not 
a million of ducats at stake, and were nowise ready for 
a cast so desperate. A clamor of remonstrance rose 
from the circle. Many voices, that of Mendoza among- 
the rest, urged waiting till their main forces should 
arrive. The excitement spread to the men without, 
and the swarthy, black - bearded crowd broke into 
tumults mounting almost to mutiny, while an officer 
was heard to say that he would not go on such a hare- 
brained errand to be butchered like a beast. But noth- 
ing could move the Adelantado. His appeals or his 
threats did their work at last ; tlie confusion was 
quelled, and preparation was made for the march. 

On the morning of the seventeenth, five hundred ar- 
quebusiersand pikemen were drawn up before the camp. 
To each was given a sack of bread and a flask of wine. 
Two Indians and a renegade Frenchman, called Fran- 
9ois Jean, were to guide them, and twenty Biscayan 
axe-men moved to the front to clear the way. Through 
floods of driving rain, a hoarse voice shouted the word 
of command, and the sullen march began. 

1 "A sangre y fuego." — Barcia, 78, where the speech is given at length. 



1665.] MARCHES ON FORT CAROLINE. JQQ 

With dismal misgiving-, Mendoza watched the last 
files as they vanished in the tempestuous forest. Two 
days of suspense ensued, when a messenger came back 
with a letter from the Adelantado, announcing that he 
had nearly reached the French fort, nnd that on the 
morrow, September the twentieth, at sunrise, he hoped 
to assault it. " May the Divine MRJesty deign to pro- 
tect us, for He knows that we have need of it," writes 
the scared chaplain ; " the Adelantado's great zeal and 
courage make us hope he will succeed, but, for the good 
of His Majesty's service, he ought to be a little less 
ardent in pursuing his schemes." 

Meanwhile the five hundred had pushed their march 
through forest and quRgmire, through swollen streams 
and inundated savannas, toiling knee-deep through mud, 
rushes, and the rank, tangled grass, — hacking their 
way through thickets of the yucca, or Spanish bayonet, 
with its clumps of dagger -like leaves, or defiling in 
gloomy procession through the drenched forest, to the 
moan and roar of the storm-racked pines. As they 
bent before the tempest, the water trickling from the 
rusty head-piece crept clammy and cold betwixt the ar- 
mor and the skin ; and when they made their wretched 
bivouac, their bed was the spongy soil, and the exhaust- 
less clouds their tent. 

The night of Wednesday, the nineteenth, found their 
vanguard in a deep forest of pines, less than a mile from 
Fort Caroline, and near the low hills which extended 
in its rear, and formed a continuation of St. John's 
Biuif. All around was one great morass. In pitchy 

10 



IIQ MENENDEZ. [1566. 

darkness, knee-deep in weeds and water, half starved, 
worn with toil and lack of sleep, drenched to the 
skin, their provision spoiled, their ammunition wet, 
and their spirit chilled out of them, they stood in 
shivering groups, cursing the enterprise and the au- 
thor of it. Menendez heard an ensign say aloud to 
his comrades, — 

" This Asturian corito, who knows no more of war 

on shore than an ass, has hetrayed us all. By , 

if my advice had been followed, he would have had his 
deserts the day he set out on this cursed journey ! " ^ 

The Adelantado pretended not to hear. 

Two hours before dawn he called his officers about 
him. All night, he said, he had been praying to God 
and the Virgin. 

" Seiiores, what shall we resolve on "? Our ammu- 
nition and provisions are gone. Our case is desper- 
ate."^ And he urged a bold rush on the fort. 

But men and officers alike were disheartened and 
disgusted. They listened coldly and sullenly; many 
were for returning at every risk ; none were in the 
mood for fight. Menendez put forth all his eloquence, 
till at length the dashed spirits of his followers were 
so far revived that they consented to follow him. 

All fell on their knees in the marsh ; then, rising, 
they formed their ranks and began to advance, guided 

^ " Como nos trae vendidos este Asturiano Corito, que no sabe de 
Guerra de Tierra, mas que un Jumento ! " etc. — Barcia, 79. Corito is a 
nickname given to the inhabitants of Biscay and the Asturias. 

^ " Ved aora, SeSores, que determinacion tomaremos, hallandonos can- 
Bados, perdidos, sin Municiones ni Comida, ni esperan9a de remediar- 
nos ? " — Barcia, 79. 



1565.] THE FEENCH FORT TAKEN. m 

by the renegade Frenchman, whose hands, to make 
sure of him, were tied behind his back. Groping and 
stumbling in the dark among trees, roots, and under- 
brush, buffeted by wind and rain,^ and lashed in the 
face by the recoiling boughs which they could not see, 
they soon lost their way, fell into confusion, and came 
to a stand, in a mood more savagely desponding than 
before. But soon a glimmer of returning day came to 
their aid, and showed them the dusky sky, and the dark 
columns of the surrounding-pines. Menendez ordered 
the men forward on pain of death. They obeyed, and 
presently, emerging from the forest, could dimly dis- 
cern the ridge of a low hill, behind which, the French- 
man told them, was the fort. Menendez, with a few 
officers and men, cautiously mounted to the top. Be- 
neath lay Fort Caroline, three bowshots distant; but 
the rain, the imperfect hght, and a cluster of interven- 
ing houses prevented his seeing clearly, and he sent 
two officers to reconnoitre. As they descended, they 
met a solitary Frenchman. They knocked him down 
with a sheathed sword, wounded him, took him pris- 
oner, kept him for a time, then stabbed him as they 
returned towards the top of the hill. Here, clutching 
their weapons, all the gang stood, in fierce expectancy. 

" Santiago ! " cried Menendez. " At them ! God 
is with us ! Victory ! " -^ 

And, shouting their hoarse war-cries, the Spaniards 
rushed down the slope like starved wolves. 

Not a sentry was on the rampart. La Vigne, the 

1 Barcia, 80. 



1 12 MENENDEZ. [1565. 

officer of the guard, had just gone to his quarters ; 
but a trumpeter, who chanced to remain, saw, through 
sheets of rain, the swarm of assailants sweeping down 
the hill. He blew the alarm, and at the summons a 
few half-naked soldiers ran wildly out of the barracks. 
It was too late. Through the breaches, and over the 
ramparts, the Spaniards came pouring in. 

" Santiago ! Santiago ! " 

Sick men leaped from their beds. Women and chil- 
dren, blind with fright, darted shrieking from the 
houses. A fierce, gaunt visage, the thrust of a pike, 
or blow of a rusty halberd, — such was the greeting 
that met all alike. Laudonniere snatched his sword and 
target, and ran towards the principal breach, calling to 
his soldiers. A rush of Spaniards met him ; his men 
were cut down around him ; and he, with a soldier 
named Bartholomew, was forced back into the court- 
yard of his house. Here stood a tent, and as the 
pursuers stumbled among the cords, he escaped be- 
hind Ottigny's house, sprang through the breach in the 
western rampart, and fled for the woods.^ 

Le Moyne had been one of the guard. Scarcely 
had he thrown himself into a hanmiock which was 
slung in his room, when a savage shout, and a wild 
uproar of shrieks, outcries, and the clash of weapons, 
brought him to his feet. He rushed by two Spaniards 
in the door-way, ran behind the guard-house, leaped 
through an embrasure into the ditch, and escaped to 
the forest.^ 

1 Laudonniere, 110 ; Le Moyne, 24. ^ Le Moyne, 25 



loG&.j THE MASSACEE. 1I3 

GImlleux, the carpenter, was going betimes to his 
work, a chisel in his hand. He was old, but pike and 
partisan brandished at his back gave wings to his 
flight. In the ecstasy of his terror, he leaped upward, 
clutched the top of the palisade, and threw himself 
over with the agility of a boy. He ran up the hill, 
no one pursuing, and, as he neared the edge of the for- 
est, turned and looked back. From the high ground 
where he stood Ire could see the butchery, the fury of 
the conquerors, the agonizing gestures of the victims. 
He turned again in horror, and plunged into the woods.* 
As he tore his way through the briers and thickets, he 
met several fugitives, escaped like himself. Others 
presently came up, haggard and wild, like men broke 
loose from the jaws of death. They gathered together 
and consulted. One of them, in great repute for his 
knowledge of the Bible, was for returning and sur- 
rendering to the Spaniards. " They are men," he 
said ; " perhaps, when their fury is over, they will spare 
our lives ; and, even if they kill us, it will only be a few 
moments' pain. Better so, than to starve here in the 
woods, or be torn to pieces by wild beasts." ^ 

The greater part of the naked and despairing com- 
pany assented, but Challeux was of a different mind. 
The old Huguenot quoted Scripture, and called the 
names of prophets and apostles to witness, that, in the 
direst extremity, God would not abandon those who 
rested their faith in Him. Six of the fugitives, how- 
ever, still held to their desperate purpose. Issuing 

1 Challeux in Ternaux-Compans, 272. 2 ibid. 276. 

10* 



114. MENENDEZ. [15G5 

from the woods, they descended towards the fort, and, 
as with beating hearts their comrades watched the i'e- 
sult, a troop of Spaniards rushed forth, hewed them 
down with swords and halberds, and dragged their 
bodies to the brink of the river, where the victims of 
the massacre were already flung in heap's. 

Le Moyne, with a soldier named Grandchemin, 
whom he had met in his flight, toiled all day through 
the woods, in the hope of reaching the small vessels 
anchored behind the bar. Night found them in a 
morass. No vessel could be seen, and the soldier, in 
despair, broke into angry upbraidings against his com- 
panion, — saying that he would go back and give him- 
self up. Le Moyne at first opposed him, then jnelded. 
But when they drew near the fort, and heard the uproar 
of savage revelry that rose from within, the artist's 
heart failed him. He embraced his companion, and 
the soldier advanced alone. A party of Spaniards 
came out to meet him. He kneeled, and begged for 
his life. He was answered by a death-blow ; and the 
horrified Le Moyne, from his hiding - place in the 
thicket, saw his limbs hacked apart, stuck on pikes, 
and borne ofl[" in triumph.^ 

Meanwhile, Menendez, mustering his followers, had 
offered thanks to God for their victory ; and this pious 
butcher wept with emotion as he recounted the favors 
which Heaven had showered upon their enterprise. 
His admiring historian gives it in proof of his human- 
ity, that, after the rage of the assault was spent, he 

1 Le Moyne, 26. 



1665.J FEROCITY OF THE SPANIAKDS. H^ 

ordered that women, infants, and boys under fifteen 
should thenceforth be spared. Of these, by his own 
account, there were about fifty. Writing in October 
to the King-, he says, that they cause him great anx- 
iety, since he fears the anger of God, should he now 
put them to death, while, on the other hand, he is in 
dread lest the venom of their heresy should infect his 
men. 

A hundred and forty-two persons were slain in and 
around the fort, and their bodies lay heaped together 
on the bank of the river. Nearly opposite was an- 
chored a small vessel, called the Pearl, commanded by 
Jacques Ribaut, son of the Admiral. The ferocious 
soldiery, maddened with victory and drunk with blood, 
crowded to the water's edge, shouting insults to those 
on board, mangling the corpses, tearing out their eyes, 
and throwing them towards the vessel from the points 
of their daggers.^ Thus did the Most Catholic Philip 
champion the cause of Heaven in the New World. 

It was currently believed in France, and, though no 
eye-witness attests it, there is reason to think it true, 
that among those murdered at Fort Caroline there were 
some who died a death of peculiar ignominy. Menen- 
dez, it is affirmed, hanged his prisoners on trees, and 

1 " ... car, arrachans les yeux des morts, les fichoyent au bout 
des dagues, et puis auec cris, lieurlemens & toute gaudisserie, les ietto- 
yent contre nos Francois vers I'eau." — Challeux, (1566,) 34. 

" lis arraclierent les yeulx qu'ils avoieiit meurtris, et les aiant fichez 
a la poincte de leurs dagues faisoient entre eulx a qui plus loing les jette- 
roit." — Prevost, Rfprinse de la Floride. This is a contemporary MS. ia 
the Bibliotheque Imperiale, inserted by Ternaux-Compans in his MecueiL 
It will be often cited hereafter. 



l;(5 MENENDEZ. [1565. 

placed over them the inscription, " I do this, not as to 
Frenchmen, but as to Lutherans." ^ 

The Spaniards gained a great booty ; armor, cloth- 
ing, and provisions. " Nevertheless," says the devout 
Mendoza, after closing his inventory of the plunder, 
" the greatest profit of this victory is the triumph which 
our Lord has granted us, whereby His holy Gospel will 
be introduced into this country, a thing so needful for 
saving so many souls from perdition." Again, he 
writes in his journal, — " We owe to God and His 
Mother, more than to human strength, this victory 
over the adversaries of the holy Catholic religion."^ 

To whatever influence, celestial or other, the exploit 
may best be ascribed, the victors were not yet quite 
content with their success. Two small French vessels, 
besides that of Jacques Ribaut, still lay within range 
of the fort. When the storm had a little abated, the 
cannon were turned on them. One of them was sunk, 
but Ribaut, with the others, escaped down the river, at 
the mouth of which several light craft, including that 
bought from the English, had been anchored since the 
arrival of his father's squadron. 

1 Prevost in Ternaux-Compans, 357 ; Lescarbot, (1612,) I. 127; Charle- 
voix, Nomelle France, (1744,) I. 81; ami nearly all tlie Erench secondary 
writers. Barcia denies the story. How deep the indignation it kindled 
in France will appear hereafter. 

2 "Mais le plus grand avantage de cette victoire c'est certainement le 
triomphe que Notre -Seigneur nous a accorde, et qui fera que son Saint- 
Eviingile sera introduit dans cette contree, chose si necessaire pour em- 
peclier tant d'ames d'etre perdues." — Mendoza, 222. 

" On est redevable a Dieu et sa Mere de la victoire que Ton a rem- 
portee contre les adversaires de la sainte religion Catholique, plutot C[u'6 
la force des hommes." — Ibid. 219. 



1d(5o1 rilE FUGITIVES. 



117 



Wliile tliis was passing, the wretched fugitives were 
flying from the scene of massacre through a tempest, 
of whose persistent violence all the narratives speak 
with wonder. Exhausted, starved, half clothed, — for 
most of them had escaped in their shirts, — they 
pushed their toilsome way amid the ceaseless wrath of 
the elements. A few sought refuij-e in Indian villages: 
but these, it is said, were afterwards killed by tire 
Spaniards. The greater number attempted to reach 
the vessels at the mouth of the river. Among the lat- 
ter was Le Moyne, who, despite his former failure, was 
toiling through the mazes of tangled forests, when he 
met a Belgian soldier with the woman described as 
Laudonniere's maid-servant, the latter wounded in the 
breast ; and, urging their flight towards the vessels, 
they fell in with other fugitives, and among them with 
Laudonniere himself. As they struggled through the 
salt-marsh, the rank sedge cut their naked limbs, and 
the tide rose to their waists. Presently they descried 
others, toiling like themselves through the matted 
vegetation, and recognized Challeux and his compan- 
ions, also in quest of the vessels. The old man still, 
as he tells us, held fast to his chisel, which had done 
good service in cutting poles to aid the party to cross 
the deep creeks that channelled the morass. The 
united band, twenty-six in all, were cheered at length 
by the sight of a moving sail. It was the vessel of 
Captain Mallard, who, informed of the massacre, was 
standing along-shore in the hope of picking up some 
of the fugitives. He saw their signals, and sent boats 



l]y MENENDEZ. [1565 

to their rescue ; but such was their exhaustion, that, 
had not the sailors, wading to their armpits among" the 
rushes, borne them out on their shoulders, few could 
have escaped. Laudonniere was so feeble that nothing 
but the support of a soldier, who held him upright in 
his arms, had saved him from drowning in the marsh. 

On gaining the friendly decks, the fugitives coun- 
selled together. One and all, they sickened for the 
sight of France. 

After waiting a few days, and saving a few more 
stragglers from the marsh, they prepared to sail. 
Young Ribaut, though ignorant of his father's fate, 
assented with something more than willingness ; in- 
deed, his behavior throughout had been stamped Avith 
weakness and poltroonery. On the twenty-fifth of Sep- 
tember they put to sea in two vessels ; and, after a 
voyage whose privations were fatal to many of them, 
they arrived, one party at Rochelle, the other at Swan- 
sea, in Wales. 



CHAPTER VIII. 
1565. 

MASSACRE OP THE HERETICS. 

Menenpez returns to St. Augustine. — Tidings of the French. 
RiBAur SHIPWRECKED. — The March OF Menendez. — He discoveks 
THE French. — Interviews. — Hopes of Mercy. — Surrender of the 
French. — Massacre. — Return to St. Augustine. — Tidings of 
Ribaut's Party. — His Interview avith Menendez. — Deceived and 
Betrayed. — Murdered. — Another Massacre. — French Accounts. 
— Schemes of the Spaniards. — Survivors of the Carnage. — In- 
difference of the French Court. 

In suspense and fear, hourly looking- seaward for 
the dreaded fleet of Jean Ribaut, the chaplain Mendoza 
and his brother -priests held watch and ward at St. 
Augustine in the Adelantado's absence. Besides the 
celestial guardians whom they ceased not to invoke, 
they had as protectors Bartholomew Menendez, the 
brother of the Adelantado, and about a hundred sol- 
diers. Day and night, they toiled to throw up earth- 
works and strengthen their position. 

A week elapsed, when they saw a man running to- 
wards their fort, shouting as he ran. 

Mendoza went out to meet him. 

" Victory ! Victory ! " gasped the breathless mes- 
senger. " The French fort is ours ! " i\nd he flung 
his arms about the chaplain's neck.^ 

" To-day," writes the priest in his journal, " Mon- 
1 Mendoza, 217. 



120 MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. 11565. 

(lay, ihe twenty-fourth, came our good general himself, 
with fifty soldiers, very tired, like all those who were 
with him. As soon as they told me he was coming, I 
ran to my lodging, took a new cassock, the best I had, 
put on my surplice, and went out to meet him with a 
crucifix in my hand ; whereupon he, like a gentleman 
and a good Christian, kneeled down with all his fol- 
lowers, and gave the Lord a thousand thanks for the 
great favors he had received from Him." 

In solemn procession, with four priests in front chant- 
ing the Te Deum^ the victors entered St. Augustine in 
triumph. 

On the twenty-eighth, when the weary Adelantado 
was taking his siesta under the sylvan roof of Seloy, a 
troop of Indians came in with news that quickly roused 
him from his slumbers. They had seen a French ves- 
sel wrecked on the coast towards the south. Those 
who escaped from her were some four leagues off, on 
the banks of a river or arm of the sea, which they 
could not cross.^ 

Menendez instantly sent forty or fifty men in boats 
to reconnoitre. Next, he called the chaplain, — for he 
would fain have him at his elbow to countenance the 
deeds he meditated, — 'and, with him, twelve soldiers, 
and two Indian guides, embarked in another boat. They 
I'ovved along the channel between Anastasia Island and 
the main shore ; then they landed, struck across the 
island on foot, traversed plains and marshes, reached 

^ Mendoza, 227 ; Soli's in Barcia, 85 ; Letter of Menendez to the King, 
18 October, 1565, MS. 



1665.] ■ WRECK OF THE FRENCH. Ic21 

the sea towards night, and searched along-shore till ten 
o'clock to find their comrades who had gone before. 
At length, with mutual joy, the two parties met, and 
bivouacked together on the sands. Not far distant they 
could see lights. These were the camp-fires of the 
shipwrecked French. 

And now, to relate the fortunes of these unhappy 
men. To do so with precision is impossible ; for hence- 
forward the French narratives are no longer the narra- 
tives of eye-witnesses. 

It has been seen how, when on the point of assail- 
ing the Spaniards of St. Augustine, Jean Ribaut was 
thwarted by a gale which they hailed as a divine in- 
terposition. The gale rose to a tempest of strange 
fury. Within a few days, all the French ships were 
cast on shore, the greater number near Cape Canaveral. 
According to a letter of Menendez, many of those 
on board were lost, but others affirm that all escaped 
but a captain. La Grange, an officer of high merit, 
who was washed from a floating mast.^ One of the 
ships was wrecked at a point farther northward than 
the rest, and it was her company whose camp-fires 
were seen by the Spaniards at their bivouac among 
the sands of Anastasia Island. They were endeavor- 
ing- to reach Fort Caroline, of whose fate they knew 
nothing, while Ribaut with the remainder was farther 
southward, struggling through the wilderness towards 
the same goal. What befell the latter will appear 
hereafter. Of the fate of the former party there 19 

1 Clialleux, (1566,) 46. 
11 



iq2 MAfeSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [1565. 

no French record. What we know of it is due to 
three Spanish eye-witnesses, Mendoza, Doctor Solis de 
las Meras, and Menendez' himself. Solis was a priest, 
and brother-in-law to Menendez. Like Mendoza, he 
minutely describes what he saw, and, like him, was a 
red-hot zealot, lavishing applause on the darkest deeds 
of his chief. But the principal witness is Menendez 
himself, in his long despatches sent from Florida to 
the King, and now first brought to light from the 
archives of Seville, — a cool record of unsurpassed 
atrocities, inscribed on the back with the royal in- 
dorsement, " Say to him that he has done well." 

When the Adelantado saw the French fires in the 
distance, he lay close in his bivouac, and sent two sol- 
diei's to reconnoitre. At two o'clock in the morninof 
they came back and reported that it was impossible to 
get at the enemy, since they were on the farther side of 
an arm of the sea (probably Matanzas Inlet). Menen- 
dez, however, gave orders to march, and before day- 
break reached the hither bank, where he hid his men in 
a bushy hollow. Thence, as it grew light, they could 
discern the enemy, many of whom were searching 
along the sands and shallows for shell-fish, for they 
were famishing. A thought struck Menendez, an in- 
spiration, says Mendoza, of the Holy Spirit.^ He put 
on the clothes of a sailor, entered a boat which had 
been brought to the spot, and rowed towards the ship- 
wrecked men, the better to learn their condition. A 

J " Notre general, eclaire par I'Esprit Saint, nous dit : J'ai I'intention 
de quitter ces habits, d'en mettre un de marin," etc. — Mendoza, 230. 



1565.] INTERVIEWS. l^g 

Frenchman swam out to meet him. Menendez de- 
manded wliat men they were. 

" Followers of Ribaut, Viceroy of the King of 
France," answered the swimmer. 

" Are you Catholics or Lutherans "? " 

" All Lutherans." 

A brief dialogue ensued, during which the Adelau- 
tado declared his name and character. The French- 
man swam back to his companions, but soon returned, 
and asked safe conduct for his captain and four other 
gentlemen who wished to hold conference with the 
Spanish general; Menendez gave his word for their 
safety, and, returning to the shore, sent his boat to 
brin^ them over. On their landing, he met them 
very courteously. His followers were kept at a dis- 
tance, so disposed behind hills and clumps of bushes 
as to give an exaggerated idea of their force, — a pre- 
caution the more needful as they were only about sixty 
in number, while the French, says Solis, were above two 
hundred. Menendez, however, declares that they did 
not exceed a hundred and forty. The French officer 
told him the story of their shipwreck, and begged him 
to lend them a boat to aid them in crossing the rivers 
which lay between them and a fort of their King, 
whither they were making their way. 

Then came again the ominous question, — 

" Are you Catholics or Lutherans l " 

" We are Lutherans." 

" Gentlemen," pursued Menendez, " your fort is 
taken, and all in it are put to the sword." And, in 



I24f MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [156& 

proof of his declaration, he caused articles plundered 
from Fort Caroline to be shown to the unhappy peti- 
tioners. He then left them, and went to breakfast 
with his officers, first ordering food to be placed before 
them. Having breakfasted, he returned to them. 

" Are you convinced now," he asked, " that what I 
have told you is true 1 " 

The French captain assented, and implored him to 
lend them ships in which to return home. Menendez 
answered, that he would do so willingly, if they were 
Catholics, and if he had ships to spare, but he had 
none. The supplicants then expressed the hope, that, 
at least, they and their followers would be allowed to 
remain with the Spaniards till ships could be sent to 
their relief, since there was peace between the two 
nations, whose kings were friends and brothers. 

" All Catholics," retorted the Spaniard, " I will be 
friend ; but as you are of the New Sect, I hold you as 
enemies, and wage deadly war against you ; and this I 
will do with all cruelty \_crueldad~j in this country, 
where I command as Viceroy and Captain-General for 
my King. I am here to plant the Holy Gospel, that the 
Indians may be enlightened and come to the knowledge 
of the holy Catholic faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, as 
the Roman Church teaches it. If you will give up your 
arms and banners, and place yourselves at my mercy, 
you may do so, and I will act towards you as God shall 
give me grace. Do as you will, for other than this 
you can have neither truce nor friendship with me." ^ 
1 "... . mas, que por ser eUos de la Nuera Secta. los tenia por Enemi* 



1565.J INTERVIEWS WITH THE FRENCH. IQ^ 

Such were the Adelantado's words, as reported by a 
bystander, his admiring brother-in-law ; and that they 
contain an imphed assurance of mercy has been held, 
not only by Protestants, but by Catholics and Span- 
iards.^ The report of Menendez himself is more bnef, 
and sufficiently equivocal: — 

" I answered, that they could give up their arms and 
place themselves under my mercy, — that I should do 
with them what our Lord should order ; and from that 
I did not depart, nor would I, unless God our Lord 
should otherwise inspire."^ 

One of the Frenchmen recrossed to consult with his 
companions. In two hours he returned, and offered 
fifty thousand ducats to secure their lives ; but Menen- 
dez, says his brother-in-law, would give no pledges. On 
the other hand, expressions in his own despatches point 

gos, e tenia con ellos Guerra, a sangre, e fuego ; e que esta la liaria coa 
toda crueklad alosque hallase en aquella Mar, e Tierra, donde era Virrei, 
h Capitan General por su Rei; e que iba a plantar el Santo Evangelio en 
aquella Tierra, para que fuesen alumbrados los Indies, e viniesen al cono- 
cimiento de la Santa Fe Catolica de Jesu Christo N. S. conio lo dice, h 
canta la Iglesia Romana ; e que si ellos quieren entregarle las Vanderas, 
e las Armas, e ponerse en su Misericordia, lo pueden hacer, para que el 
haga de ellos lo que Dios le diere de gracia, b que hagan lo que quisieren, 
que otras Treguas, ni Amistades no avian de hacer con el." — Solis, 80. 

^ Salazar, Crisis del Ensayo, 23 ; Padre Felipe Briet, Anales. 

2 " Respondiles, que las armas me podia rendir y ponerse debaxo de ml 
gracia para que Yo liiciese del los aquello que Nuestro Seiior me orde- 
nase, y de aqm no me saco, ni sacara si Dios Nuestro Seiior no espirara 
en mi otra cosa. Y ansi se fue con esta respuesta, y se vinieron y me 
entregaron las armas, y hiceles amarrar las manos atras y pasarlos a 
cuchillo 

" Pareciome que castigar los desta manera se servia Dios Nuestro Senor, 
V V. Mag'', para que adelante nos dexen mas libres esta mala seta para 
plantar el evangelio en estas partes." — Carta de Pedro Menendez a su Ma- 
gestad, Fuerte de S" Aguslin, 15 Octubre, 1505, MS. 
11* 



l£Q MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. 1156& 

to tlie inference that a virtual pledge was given, at least 
to certain individuals. 

The starving French saw no resource but to yield 
themselves to his mercy. The boat was again sent 
across the river. It returned, laden with banners, ar- 
quebuses, swords, targets, and helmets. The Adelan- 
tado ordered twenty soldiers to bring over the prison- 
ers, ten at a time. He then took the French officers 
aside behind a ridge of sand, two gunshots from the 
bank. Here, with courtesy on his lips and murder 
at his heart, he said, — 

" Gentlemen, I have but few men, and you are so 
many, that, if you were free, it would be easy for you 
to take your satisfaction on us for the people we killed 
when we took your fort. Therefore it is necessary 
that you should go to my camp, four leagues from this 
place, with your hands tied."^ 

Accordingly, as each party landed, they were led out 
of sight behind the sand-hill, and their hands tied be- 
hind their backs with the match-cords of the arquebuses, 
— though not before each had been supplied with food. 
The whole day passed before all were brought together, 
bound and helpless, under the eye of the inexorable 
Adelantado. But now Mendoza interposed. " I was 
a priest," he says, " and had the bowels of a man." 
He asked, that, if there were Christians, that is to say 

1 " Seiioros, yo tengo poca Gente, e no mui conocida, e Vosotros sois 
miichos, e andando siieltos, facil cosa os seria satisfeceros de Nosotros, 
por la Gente, que os degollamos, quando ganamos el Fuerte ; h ansi es 
menester, que con las manos atras, amarradas, marcheis de a^ui h, qua- 
tro Leguas, donde yo tengo mi Real." — Solis, 87. 



1565.] BUTCHERY. J^iT 

« 

Catholics, among the prisoners, they should he set 
apart. Twelve Breton sailors professed themselves to, 
be such ; and these, together with four carpenters and 
calkers, " of whom," writes Menendez, " I was in great 
need," were put on board the boat and sent to St. Au- 
gustine. The rest were ordered to march thither by 
land. 

The Adelantado walked in advance till he came to a 
lonely spot, not far distant, deep among the bush-cov- 
ered hills. Here he stopped, and with his cane drew 
a line in the sand. The sun was set when the captive 
Huguenots, with their escort, reached the fatal goal thus 
marked out. And now let the curtain drop ; for here, 
in the name of Heaven, the hounds of hell were turned 
loose, and the savage soldiery, like wolves in a sheep- 
fold, rioted in slaughter. Of all that wretched com- 
pany, not one was left alive. 

" I had their hands tied behind their backs," writes 
the chief criminal, " and themselves put to the sword. 
It appeared to me, that, by thus chastising them, God 
our Lord and your Majesty were served; whereby in 
future this evil sect will leave us more free to plant 
the gospel in these parts."-* 

Again Menendez returned triumphant to St. Augus- 
tine, and behind him marched his band of butchers, 
steeped in blood to the elbows, but still unsated. Great 
as had been his success, he still had cause for anxiety. 
There was ill news of his fleet. Some of the ships 
were lost, others scattered, or lagging tardily on their 

1 For the original, see ante, note 2, p. 125. 



123 MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [15G5. 

way. Of his whole force, but a fraction had reached 
Florida, and of this a large part was still at Fort Car- 
oline. Ribaut could not be far off"; and, whatever 
might be the condition of his shipwrecked company, 
their numbers would make them formidable, unless 
taken at advantage. Urged by fear and fortified by 
fanaticism, Menendez had well begun his work of 
slaughter ; but rest for him there was none ; a darker 
deed was behind. 

On the next day, Indians came with the tidings, that 
at the spot where the first party of the shipwrecked 
French had been found was now another party still 
larger. This murder - loving race looked with great 
respect on Menendez for his wholesale butchery of 
the night before, — an exploit rarely equalled in their 
own annals of massacre. On his part, he doubted not 
that Ribaut was at hand. Marching with a hundred 
and fifty men, he reached the inlet at midnig-Jit, and 
again, like a savage, ambushed himself on the bank. 
Day broke, and he could plainly see the French on the 
farther side. They had made a raft, which lay in 
the water, ready for crossing. Menendez and his 
men showed themselves, when, forthwith, the French 
displayed their banuers, sounded drums and trumpets, 
and set their sick and starving ranks in array of battle. 
But the Adelantado, regardless of this warlike show, 
ordered his men to seat themselves at breakfast, while 
he with three officers walked unconcernedly along the 
shore. His coolness had its effect. The French h\ew 
a trumpet of parley, and showed a white flag. The 



15G5.1 EIBxVUT AND MENENDEZ. 



Ii29 



Spaniards replied. A Frenchman came out upon the 
raft, and, shouting across the water, asked that a Span- 
ish envoy should be sent over. 

" You have a raft," was the reply ; " come your- 

1)? 
ves. 

All Indian canoe lay under the bank on the Spanish 
side. A French sailor swam to it, paddled back un- 
molested, and presently returned, bringing with him 
La Caille, Ribaut's sergeant-major. He told Menen- 
dez that the Frencii were three hundred and fifty in all, 
and were on their way to Fort Caroline; and, like the 
officers of" the former party, he begged for boats to aid 
them in crossing the river. 

" My brother," said Menendez, " go and tell your 
general, that, if he wishes to speak with me, he may 
come with four or six companions, and that I pledge 
my word he shall go back safe."-^ 

La Caille returned ; and Ribaut, with eight gentle- 
men, soon came over in the canoe. Menendez met 
them courteously, caused wine and preserved fruits to 
be placed before them, — he had come well provisioned 
on his errand of blood, — and next led Ribaut to the 
reeking Golgotha, where, in heaps upon the sand, 
lay the corpses of his slaughtered followers. Ribaut 
was prepared for the spectacle ; La Caille had already 
seen it; but he would not believe that Fort Caroline was 
taken till a part of the plunder was shown him. Then, 
mastering his despair, he turned to the conqueror. 

" What has befallen us," he said^ " may one day 
1 Soli's, 88. 



IQQ MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [1565. 

befall you." And, urging that the kings of France and 
Spain were brothers and close friends, he begged, in 
the name of that friendship, that the Spaniard would 
aid him in coiiveying his followers home. Menendez 
gave him the same equivocal answer that he had given 
the former party, and Ribaut returned to consult with 
his officers. After three hours of absence, he came 
back in the canoe, and told the Adelantado that some 
of his people were ready to surrender at discretion, but 
that many refused. 

" They can do as they please," was the reply. 

In behalf of those who surrendered Ribaut offered 
a ransom of a hundred thousand ducats, 

" It would much grieve me," said Menendez, " not 
to accept it ; for I have great need of it." 

Ribaut was much encouraged. Menendez could 
scarcely forego such a prize, and he thought, says the 
Spanish narrator, that the lives of his followers would 
now be safe. He asked to be allowed the night for 
deliberation, and at sunset recrossed the river. In the 
morning he reappeared among the Spaniards, and re- 
ported that two hundred of his men had retreated from 
the spot, but that the remaining one hundred and fifty 
w^ould surrender.-^ At the same time he gave into the 
hands of Menendez the royal standard and other flags, 
with his sword, dagger, helmet, buckler, and the official 
seal given him by Coligny. Menendez directed an 
officer to enter the boat and bring over the French by 
tens. He next led Ribaut among the bushes behind 
1 Soli's, 89. Menendez speaks only of seventy. 



1565.J ANOTHER BUTCHERY. JgJ 

the neighboring sand-hill, and ordered his hands to be 
bound fast. Then the scales fell from the prisoner's 
eyes. Face to face his fate rose up before him. He 
saw his followers and himself entrapped, — the dupe 
of words artfully frauied to lure them to their ruin. 
The day wore on ; and, as band after band of prison- 
ers was brought over, they were led behind the sand- 
hill out of sight from the farther shore, and bound like 
their general. At length the transit was finished. With 
bloodshot eyes and weapons bared, the fierce Spaniards 
closed around their victims. 

" Are you Catholics or Lutherans 1 and is there any 
one among you who will go to confession 1 " 

Ribaut answered, — 

" I and all here are of the Reformed Faith." 

And he recited the Psalm, ^^ Domme, memento mei." ^ 

" We are of earth," he continued, " and to earth we 
must return ; twenty years more or less can matter 
little ; " ^ and, turning to the Adelantado*, he bade him 
do his will. 

The stony-hearted bigot gave the signal ; and those 
who will may paint to themselves the horrors of the 
scene. 

A few, however, were spared. " I saved," writes 
Menendez, " the lives of two young gentlemen of 
about eighteen years of age, as well as of three others, 

1 " L'auteur a a'ouIu dire apparemtnent, Memento Domine David. D'ail- 
leurs Ribaut la recita sans doute en Fran9ais, a la maniere des Protea- 
tans." — Ilitit. Gen. des Voyages, XIV. 446. 

^ "Dijo; que de Tierra eran, y que en Tierra se avian de bolver; % 
veinte Afios mas, 6 menos, todo eran una Cuenta." — SoHs, 89. 



IQ2 MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [15G6 

the fifer, the drummer, and the trumpeter ; and I 
caused Juan Ribao [Jlibaut] with all the rest to be put 
to the sword, judging this to be expedient for the ser- 
vice of God our Lord, and of your Majesty. And I 
consider it great good fortune that he [Juan Ribao] 
should be dead, for the King of France could effect 
more with him and five hundred ducats than with 
other men and five thousand, and he would do more 
in one year than another in ten, for he was the most 
experienced sailor and naval commander known, and 
of great skill in this navigation of the Indies and 
the coast of Florida. He was, besides, greatly liked 
in England, in which kingdom his reputation was such, 
that he was appointed Captain-General of all the Eng- 
lish fleet against the French Catholics in the war be- 
tween England and France some years ago."-^ 

Such is the sum of the Spanish accounts, — the 
self-damning testimony of the author and abettors of 
the crime. A picture of lurid and awful coloring ; and 
yet there is reason to believe that the truth was darker 

1 " Salve la Tida hdos mozos Caballeros de hasta 18 anos, y a otros tres, 
que eraii Pifano, Atambor y Trompeta, y a Juan Rivao con todos los 
denias hice pasar a cuchillo, entendiendo que ansi convenia al servicio de 
Dios Nuestro Senor, y de V. Mag. y tengo por muy principal suerte que 
este sea muerto, porque mas hiciera el Rey de Erancia con el con 500 
ducados, que con otros con 5000, y mas hiciera el en un ano que otro en 
diez, porque era el mas pratico marinero y cosario que se sabia, y muy 
diestro en esta Navegacion de Indias y costa de Florida, y tan amigo en 
Inglaterra que tenia en aquel Re^no tanta rei^utacion que fuc nombrado 
por Capitan General de toda el Armada Inglesa contra los Catolicos de 
Francia estos ailos pasados habiendo guerra entre Inglaterra y Francia." 
— Carta de Pedro Menendez a su Magestad, Fuerle de S" Agustin, 15 de Octtt- 
bre, 1^65, MS. 



l£6.:..l ij'RENCH ACCOUNTS. J 53 

Still. Among those who were spared was one Chris- 
tophe le Breton, who was carried to Spain, escaped to 
France, and told his story to Challeux. Among those 
struck down in the butchery was a sailor of Dieppe, 
stunned and left for dead under a heap of corpses. In 
the night he revived, contrived to draw his knife, 
cut the cords that bound his hands, and made his way 
to an Indian village. The Indians, though not with- 
out reluctance, abandoned him to the Spaniards. The 
latter sold him as a slave ; but, on his way in fetters to 
Portugal, the ship was taken by the Huguenots, the 
sailor set free, and his story published in the nar- 
rative of Le Moyne. When the massacre was known 
in France, the friends and relatives of the victims sent 
to the King, Charles the Ninth, a vehement petition 
for redress; and their memorial recounts many inci- 
dents of the tragedy. From these three sources is to 
be drawn the French version of the story. The fol- 
lowing is its substance : — 

Famished and desperate, the followers of Ribaut 
were toiling northward to seek refuge at Fort Caroline, 
when they found the Spaniards in their path. Some 
were filled with dismay ; others, in their misery, almost 
hailed them as deliverers. La Caille, the sergeant- 
major, crossed the" river. Menendez met him with a 
face of friendship, and protested that he would spare 
the lives of the shipwrecked men, sealing the promise 
with an oath, a kiss, and many signs of the cross. He 
even gave it in writing, under seal. Still, there were 
many among the French who would not place them- 
12 



|34< MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [1565 

selves in his power. The most credulous crossed the 
river iu a boat. As each successive party landed, their 
hands were bound fast at their backs; and thus, except 
a few who were set apart, they were all driven towards 
the fort, like cattle to the shambles, with curses and 
scurrilous abuse. Then, at sound of drums and trum- 
pets, the Spaniards fell upon them, striking them down 
with swords, pikes, and halberds.^ Ribaut vainly 
called on the Adelantado to remember his oath. By 
his order, a soldier plunged a dagger into the French 
commander's heart ; and Ottigny, who stood near, met a 
similar fate. Ribaut's beard was cut off, and portions 
of it sent in a letter to Philip the Second. His head 
was hewn into four parts, one of which was displayed 
on the point of a lance at each corner of Fort St. Au- 
gustine. Great fires were kindled, and the bodies of 
the murdered burned to ashes.^ 

1 Here the Ereiich accounts differ. Le Moyne says that only a rlrum- 
mer and a fifer were spared; Clialleux, that carpenters, artillerymen, and 
others who might be of use, were also saved, — thirty in all. Le JMoyne 
speaks of the massacre as taking place, not at St. Augustine, but at Fort 
Caroline, a blunder into which, under the circumstances, he might very 
naturally tail. 

" . . . . ainsi comme on feroit vn trouppeau de bcstes lequel on chnsse- 
roit a la boucherie, lors a son de phiffres, tabourins et tronipes, la hardiesse 
de ces furieux Espagnols se besbedessur [sic] ces poures Francois les- 
quels estoyent liez et garottez : la c'estoit a qui donneroit le plus buau 
cousp de picque, de hallebarde et d'espe'e," etc. — Clialleux, from Cliristo- 
phe le Breton. 

^ Una Requete au Ttoij, fiiite en forme de Complainte par les Femmes reiifni>, 
pedis Enfaits orphelins, et atitres lews Amis, Parents, et Alliez de cetix qui ont 
eVe' cruellement envahis par les Espagnols en la France Antharclique dile la 
Floride. This is the petition to Charles the Ninth. There are Latin 
translations in De Bry and Chauveton. Cliristophe le Breton told Clial- 
leux the same story of the outrages on Ribaut's body. The Reqnete au 
Roy affirms that the total number of French killed by the Spaniards in 



1565.J RETURN TO ST. AUGUSTINE. J 35 

Such is the sum of the French accounts. The charge 
of breach of faith contained in them was believed by 
Catholics as well as Protestants, and it was as a defence 
against this charge that the narrative of the Adelanta- 
do's brother-in-law was published. That Ribaut, a man 
whose good sense and courage were both reputed high, 
should have submitted himself and his men to Menen- 
dez without positive assurance of safety, is scarcely 
credible ; nor is it lack of charity to believe that a 
miscreant so savage in heart and so perverted in con- 
science would act on the maxim, current among the 
bigots of the day, that faith ought not to be kept with 
heretics. 

It was night when the Adelantado again entered St. 
Augustine. There were some who blamed his cruelty ; 
but many applauded. "Even if the French had been 
Catholics," — such was their language, — '• he would 
have done right, for, with the little provision we have, 
they would all have starved ; besides, there were so 
many of them that they would have cut our throats." I 

And now Menendez again addressed himself to the 
despatch, already begun, in which he recounts to the 
King his labors and his triumphs, a deliberate and busi- 
ness-like document, mingling narratives of butchery 
with recommendations for promotions, commissary de- 
tails, and petitions for supplies; enlarging, too, on the 

Floritla in 1565 was more than nine hundred. This is no doubt an exag- 
geration. 

Pre'vost, a contemporary, Lescarbot, and others, affirm that Ribaut's 
body was flayed, and the skin-sent to Spain as a trophy. This is denied 
by Barcia. 



^/ 



l^Q MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [1565. 

vast schemes of eiicroachnient which his . successful 
generalship had hrought to nought. The French, he 
says, had planned a military and naval depot at Los 
Martires, whence they would make a descent upon Ha- 
vana, and another at the Bay of Ponce de Leon, 
whence they could threaten Vera Cruz. They had 
long been encroaching on Spanish rights at Newfound- 
land, from which a great arm of the sea — the St. 
Lawrence — would give them access to the Moluccas 
and other parts of the East Indies.^ He adds, in a 
later despatch, that by this passage they may reach 
the mines of Zacatecas and St. Martin, as w^ell as every 
part of the South Sea. And, as already mentioned, 
he urges immediate occupation of Chesapeake Bay, 
which, by its supposed w^ater-communication with the 
St. Lav/rence, w^ould enable Spain to vindicate her 
rights, control the fisheries of Newfoundland, and 
thwart her rival in vast designs of commercial and ter- 
ritorial aggrandizement. Thus did France and Spain 
dispute the possession of North America long before 
England became a party to the strife. 

Some twenty days after Menendez returned to St. 
Augustine, the Lidians, enamored of carnage, and 
exulting to see their invaders mowed down, came to 
tell him that on the coast southward, near Cape Cana- 
veral, a great number of Frenchmen were intrenching 
themselves. They were those of Ribaut's party who 

1 These geographical blunders are no matter of surprise. It was more 
than a century before tlie hope of reaching the Eas_t Indies by way of 
the St. Lawrence was whollv abandoned. 



15G5.1 SURVIVORS OF THE CARNAGE. 



137 



had refused to surrender. Having retreated to the spot 
where their ships had been cast ashore, they were en- 
deavoring to build a vessel from the fragments of the 
wrecks. 

In all haste Menendez despatched messengers to 
Fort Caroline, — named by him San Mateo, — order- 
ing a reinforcement of a hundred and fifty men. In 
a few days they came. He added some of his own 
soldiers, and, with a united force of two hundred and 
fifty, set forth, as he tells us, on the second of Novem- 
ber, pushing southward along the shore with such 
merciless energy that some of his men dropped dead 
with wading night and day through the loose sands. 
When, from behind their frail defences, the French saw 
the Spanish pikes and partisans glittering into view, 
they fled in a panic and took refuge among the hills. 
Menendez sent a trumpet to summon them, pledging 
his honor for their safety. The commander and sev- 
eral others told the messenger that they would sooner 
be eaten by the savages than trust themselves to Span- 
iards ; and, escaping, they fled to the Indian towns. 
The rest surrendered ; and Menendez kept his word. 
The comparative number of his own men made his 
prisoners no longer dangerous. They were led back to 
St. Augustine, where, as the Spanish writer affirms, 
they were well treated. Those of good birth sat at 
the Adelantado's table, eating- the bread of a homicide 
crimsoned with the slaughter of their comrades. The 
priests essayed their pious efforts, and, under the 
gloomy menace of the Inquisition, some of the here- 

12* 



138 MASSACRE OF THE HERETICS. [1565. 

tics renounced their errors. The fate of the captives 
may be gathered from the indorsement, in the hand- 
writing of the King, on one of the despatches of Me- 
nendez. 

" Say to him," writes Philip the Second, " that, 
as to those he has killed, he has done well, and as 
to those he has saved, they shall be sent to the gal- 
leys."^ 

Thus did Spain make good her claim to North 
America, and crush the upas of heresy in its germ. 
Within her bounds, the tidings were hailed with accla- 
mation, wliile in France a cry of horror and execra- 
tion rose from tlie Huguenots, and found an echo even 
among tiie Catholics. But the weak and ferocious 
son of Catherine de Medicis gave no response. The 
victims were Huguenots, disturbers of the realm, fol- 
lowers of Coligny, the man above all others a thorn in 
his side. True, the enterprise was a national enter- 
prise, undertaken at the national charge, with the royal 
commission, and under the royal standard. True, it 
had been assailed in time of peace by a power profess- 
ing the closest amity. Yet Huguenot influence had 
prompted and Huguenot hands executed it. That in- 
fluence had now ebbed low ; Coligny's power had 
waned ; and the Spanish party was in the ascendant. 

1 There is an indorsement to tliis effect on the despatch of Menendez 
of 12 Decetnber, 1565. A mari;inal note b}' tlie copj'ist states tliat it is in 
the well-known handwriting of Philip the Second. Compare the King's 
letter to Menendez, in Barcia, 116. This letter seems to have been writ- 
ten by a secretary in pursuance of a direction contained in the indorse-' 
ment, — " Esto sera him escribir luego it Pero Menendez," — and liighly 
commends him for the "justice he has done upon the Lutheran corsairs." 



1565.] INDIFEERENCE OF THE FRENCH COURT. Igg 

Charles the Ninth, long vacillating, was fast subsiding 
into the deathly embrace of Spain, for whom, at last, 
on the bloody eve of St. Bartholomew, he was to be- 
come the assassin of his own best subjects. 

In vain the relatives of the slain petitioned him for 
redress ; and had the honor of the nation rested in the 
keeping of its King, the blood of hundreds of mur- 
dered Frenchmen would have cried from the ground in 
vain. But it was not to be so. Injured humanity 
found an avenger, and outraged France a champion. 
Her chivalrous annals may be searched in vain for a 
deed of more romantic daring than the vengeance of 
Dominique de Gourgues. 



CHAPTER IX. 

1567 — 1574. 

DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. 

Hrs Past Life. — His Hatred of Spaniards. — Resolvks om Veu- 
GEANCE. — His Band of Ai>VE>'TUKEiis. — His Plan divllgko. — His 
Speech. — Enthusiasm of his Followers. — Condition of the 
Spaniards. — Arrival of Gourgues. — Interviews with Indians. — 
The Spaniards attacked. — The First Fort carried. — Another 
Victory. — The Final Triumph. — Prisoners hanged. — The Forts 
destroyed. — Sequel of Goukgues's Career. — Menendez. — His 
Death. 

There was a gentleman of Mont-de-Marsan, Domi- 
nique de Gourgues, a soldier of ancient birth and high 
renown. That he was a Huguenot is not certain. The 
Spanish annalist calls him a " terrible heretic ; " ^ but 
the French Jesuit, Charlevoix, anxious that the faithful 
should share the glory of his exploits, affirms, that, like 
his ancestors before him, he was a good Catholic.^ If 
so, his faith sat ligiitly upon him ; and. Catholic or her- 
etic, he hated the Spaniards with a mortal hate. Fight- 
ing in the Italian wars, — for from boyhood he was 
wedded to the sword, — he had been taken prisoner by 
them near Siena, where he had signalized himself by a 
fiery and determined bravery. With brutal insult, they 
chained him to tlie oar as a galley-slave.^ After he had 

^ Barcia, 133. 

^ Charlevoix, Nauv. France, I. 95. Compare Gue'rin, Navigateurs Fran 
gais, 200. 

■^ Lescarbot, Nouv. France, I. 141 j Barcia, 133. 



1567.1 EESOLVES ON VENGEANCE. 14,| 

long endured this ignominy, the Turks had captured 
the vessel and carried her to Constantinople. It was 
but a change of tyrants ; but, soon after, while she was 
on a cruise, Gourgues still at the oar, a galley of the 
Maltese knights hove in sight, bore down on her, recap- 
tured her, and set the prisoner free. For several years 
after, his restless spirit found employment in voyages to 
Africa, Brazil, and regions yet more remote. His naval 
repute rose high, but his grudge against the Spaniards 
still rankled within him ; and when, returned from his 
rovings, he learned the tidings from Florida, his hot 
Gascon blood boiled with fury. 

The honor of France had been foully stained, and 
there was none to wipe away the shame. The faction- 
ridden King was dumb. The nobles who surrounded 
him were in the Spanish interest.-^ Then, since they 
proved recreant, he, Dominique de Gourgues, a simple 
gentleman, would take upon him to avenge the wrong-, 
and restore the dimmed lustre of the French name.^ 
He sold his inheritance, borrowed money from his 
brother, who held a high post in Guienne,^ and equipped 
three small vessels, navigable by sail or oar. On 

1 It was at this time that the Due de Montpensier was heard to say, 
that, if liis heart was opened, the name of Pliihp would be found written 
in it. Kanke, Civil Wars, I. 337. 

2 " El, encendido en el Celo de la Honra de su Patria, aA'ia determinado 
gastar su Hacienda en aquella Empresa, de que no esperaba mas fruto, 
que vengarse, para eterni9ar su Faraa." — ■ Barcia, 134. This is the state- 
ment of an enemy. A contemporary MS. preserved in the Gourgues 
family makes a similar statement. 

^ ". . . . era Presidente de la Generalidad de Guiena." — Barcia, 133. 
Compare Mezeray, Hisl. cf France, 701. There is repeated mention of 
him in the Memoirs of Montluc. 



[■^2 DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [1567. 

board he placed a hundred arquebusiers and eighty sail- 
ors, prepared to fight on land, if need were.-^ The 
noted Blaise de Montluc, then lieutenant for the King 
in Guienne, gave him a commission to make war on the 
negroes of Benin, that is, to kidnap them as slaves, an 
adv^enture then held honorable.^ 

His true desig^n was locked within his own breast. 
He mustered his followers, feasted them, — not a few 
were of rank equal to his own, — and, on the twenty- 
second of August, 1567, sailed from the mouth of the 
Charente. Off' Cape Finisterre, so violent a storm 
buffeted his ships that his men clamored to return ; but 
Gourgues's spirit prevailed. He bore away for Africa, 
and, landing at the Rio del Oro, refreshed and cheered 
them as he best might. Thence he sailed to Cape 
Blanco, where the jealous Portuguese, who had a fort 
in the neighborhood, set upon him three negro chiefs. 
Gourgues beat them off", and remained master of the 
harbor ; whence, however, he soon voyaged onward to 
Cape Verd, and, steering westward, made for the West 
Indies. Here, advancing from island to island, he came 

1 De Gourgues MS. Barcia says two hundred ; Basanier and Lescar- 
bot, a hundred and fifty. 

■^ De Gourgues MS. This is a copy, made in 1831, by the Vicomte de 
Gourgues, froui tlie original preserved in tlie Gourgues family, and writ- 
ten either by Dominique de Gourgues himself or by some person to whom 
he was intimately known. It is, witli but trifling variations, identical 
with the two narratives entitled La Reprinse de la Floride, preserved in 
the Bibliotheque Imperiale. One of these bears the name of Eobert 
Prevost, but whether as autlior or copj'ist is not clear. M. Gaillard, 
who carefully compared them, has written a notice of their contents, witli 
remarks. The Pre'vost narrative has been printed entire by Ternaux- 
Compans in liis collection. I am indebted to Mr. Bancroft for the use of 
the Vicomte de Gourgues's copy, and Gaillard's notice. 



1568.1 HIS SPEECH. 14^3 

to Hispaniola, where, between the fury of a hurricane 
at sea and the jealousy of the Spaniards on shore, he 
was in no small jeopardy, — " the Spaniards," exclaims 
the indignant journalist, " vA'ho think that this New 
World was made for nobody but them, and that no 
other man living has a rioht to move or breathe here ! " 
Gourgues landed, however, obtained the water of which 
he was in need, and steered for Cape San Antonio, in 
Cuba. There he gathered his followers about him, and 
addressed them with his fiery Gascon eloquence. For 
the first time, he told them his true purpose. He in- 
veighed against Spanish cruelty. He painted, with 
angry rhetoric, the butcheries of Fort Caroline and St. 
Augustine. 

" What disgrace," he cried, " if such an insult should 
pass unpunished! What glory to us, if we avenge it! 
To this I have devoted my fortune. I relied on you. 
I thought you jealous enough of your country's glory 
to sacrifice life itself in a cause like this. Was I de- 
ceived ? I will show you the way ; I will be always at 
your head ; I will bear the brunt of the danger. Will 
you refuse to follow me ? " ^ 

At first his startled hearers listened in silence ; but 
soon the passions of that adventurous age rose respon- 
sive to his words. The sparks fell among gunpowder. 
The combustible French nature burst into flame. The 

1 The De Gourgues MS., with Prevost and Gaillard, give tlie speech in 
substance. Charlevoix professes to give a part in tlie words of the 
speaker, — " J'ai compte sur vous, je vous ai cru assez jaloux de la gloire 
de votre Patrie, pour lui sacrifier jusqu'a votre vie en une occasion de cette 
importance ; me suis-je trompe' 1 " etc. 



J4i4i DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [1568. 

enthusiasm of the soldiers rose to such a pitch, that 
Gourgues had much ado to make them wait till the 
moon was full before tempting the perils of the Bahama 
Channel. His time came at length. The moon rode 
high above the lonely sea, and, silvered in its light, the 
ships of the avenger held their course. 

But how, meanwhile, had it fared with the Spaniards 
in Florida 1 The good-will of the Indians had vanished. 
The French had been obtrusive and vexatious guests ; 
but their worst trespasses had been mercy and tender- 
ness, to the daily outrage of the new-comers. Friend- 
ship had changed to aversion, aversion to hatred, hatred 
to open war. The forest-paths were beset ; stragglers 
were cut off; and woe to the Spaniard who should 
venture after nightfall beyond call of the outposts.^ 

Menendez, however, had strengthened himself in his 
new conquest. St. Augustine was well fortified ; Fort 
Caroline, now Fort San Mateo, was repaired ; and two 
redoubts were thrown up to guard the mouth of the 
Hiver of May. Thence, on an afternoon in early 
spring, the Spaniards saw three sail steering northward. 
They suspected no enemy, and their batteries boomed a 
salute. Gourgues's ships replied, then stood out to sea, 
and were lost in the shades of evening. 

They kept their course all night, and, as day broke, 
anchored at the mouth of a river, the St. Mary's or the 
Santilla, by their reckoning fifteen leagues north of the 
River of May. Here, as it grew light, Gourgues saw 
the borders of the sea thronged witTi savages, armed 

1 Barcia, 100-130. 



15C8.1 MEETING WITH INDIANS. X45 

and plumed for war. They, too, had mistaken the 
strangers for Spaniards, and mustered to meet their 
tyrants at the lanchng'. But in the French ships there 
was a trumpeter who had been long- in Florida, and 
knew the Indians well. He went towards them in a 
boat, with many gestures of friendship; and no sooner 
was lie recognized, than the naked crowd, with yelps 
of delight, danced for joy along the sands. Why had 
he over left them 1 they asked ; and why had he not 
returned before "? The intercourse thus auspiciously 
begun was actively kept up. Gourgues told the prin- 
cipal chief — who was no other than Satouriona, of old 
the ally of the French — that he had come to visit 
them, make friendship with tliem, and bring them pres- 
ents. At this last announcement, so grateful to Indian 
ears, the dancing was renewed with double zeal. The 
next morning was named for a grand council. Satou- 
riona sent runners to summon all Indians within call ; 
while Gourgues, for safety, brought his vessels within 
the mouth of the river. 

Morning came, and the woods were thronged with 
congregated warriors. Gourgues and his soldiers 
landed with martial pomp. In token of mutual con- 
fidence, the French laid aside their arquebuses, the 
Indians their bows and arrows. Satouriona came to 
meet the strangers, and seated their commander at his 
side, on a wooden stool, draped and cushioned with 
the gray Spanish moss. Two old Indians cleared the 
spot of brambles, weeds, and grass ; and, their task 
finished, the tribesmen took their places, ring within 

13 



146 DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES [I0G8 

ring, standing, sitting, and crouching on the ground, a 
dusky concourse, plumed in festal array, waiting with 
grave visages and eyes intent. Gourgues was about to 
speak, when the chief, who, says the narrator, had not 
learned French manners, rose and anticipated him. He 
broke into a vehement harangue ; and the cruelty of 
the Spaniards was the burden of his words. 

Since the French fort was taken, he said, the Indians 
had not had one happy day. The Spaniards drove 
them from their cabins, stole their corn, ravished their 
wives and daughters, and killed their children ; and all 
this they had endured because they loved the French. 
There was a French boy who had escaped from the 
massacre at the fort. They had found him in the 
woods ; and, though the Spaniards, who wished to kill 
him, demanded that they should give him up, they had 
kept him for his friends. 

" Look ! " pursued the chief, " here he is ! " — and 
he brought forward a youth of sixteen, named Pierre 
Debre, who became at once of the greatest service to 
the French, his knowledge of the Indian language mak- 
ing him an excellent interpreter.^ 

Deliijhted as he was at this outburst ag-ainst the 
Spaniards, Gourgues by no means saw fit to display the 
full extent of his satisfaction. He thanked the Indians 
for their good-will, exhorted them to continue in it, and 
pronounced an ill-merited eulogy on the greatness and 
goodness of his King. As for the Spaniards, he said, 
their day of reckoning w^as at hand ; and, if the Indians 

1 De Gourgues MS. ; Gaillard MS.; Basanier, 116 ; Barcia. 134 



lofiS.i EAGERNESS OF THE INDIANS. 



U7 



had been abused for their love of the French, the 
French would be their avengers. Here Satouriona 
forgot his dignity, and leaped up for joy. 

" What!" he cried, "will you fight tbe Spaniards'?"^ 

" I came here," replied Gourgues, " only to recon- 
noitre the country and make friends with you, then to 
go back and bring more soldiers ; but, when I hear 
what you are suffering from them, I wish to fall upon 
them this very day, and rescue you from their tyranny." 
And, all around the ring, a clamor of applauding voices 
greeted his words. 

" But you will do your part," pursued the French' 
man ; " you will not leave us all the honor." 

" We will go," replied Satouriona, " and die with 
you, if need be." 

" Then, if we fight, we ought to fight at once. 
How soon can you have your warriors- ready to 
march 1 

The chief asked three days for preparation. Gour- 
gues cautioned him to secrecy, lest the Spaniards should 
take alarm. 

" Never fear," was the answer ; " we hate them 
more than you do."^ 

^ " . . . . si les rois et leurs sujects avoient este maltraictez en haine 
des Eranfois que aussi seroient-ils vengez par les Franpois - mesmes. 
Comment'? dist Satirona [Satouriona], tressaillant d'aise, vouldriez-vous 
bien faire la guerrC' aux Espaignols " — De Gourgues MS. 

2 The above is a :;ondensation from the original narrative, of the style 
of wliicli the following may serve as an example: — " Le cappitaine 
Gourgue qui avoit trouve ce qu'il chereheoit, les lone et reraercie gran- 
dement, et pour battre le fer pendant qu'il estoit chault leur dist : Voire- 
mais si nous voullons leur faire la guerre, il fauldroit que ;e fust incon- 



14,8 ]JOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [1568. 

Then came a distribution of gifts, — knives, hatch- 
ets, mirrors, bells, and beads, — while the warrior-rab- 
ble crowded to receive them, with eager faces, and 
tawny outstretched arms. The distribution over, Gour- 
S^ues asked the chiefs if there was any other matter in 
which he could serve them. On this, pointing to his 
shirt, they expressed a peculiar admiration for that gar- 
ment, and begged each to have one, to be worn at 
feasts and councils during life, and in their graves 
after death. Gourgues complied ; and his grateful 
confederates were soon stalking about him, fluttering 
in the spoils of his wardrobe. 

To learn the strength and position of the Spaniards, 
Gourgues now sent out three scouts ; and with them 
went Olotoraca, Satouriona's nephew, a young brave 
of great renown. 

The chief, eager to prove his good faith, gave as 
hostages his only son and his ftivorite wife. They 
were sent on board the ships, while the savage con- 
course dispersed to their encampments, with leaping, 
stamping, dancing, and whoops of jubilation. 

The day appointed came, and with it the savage 
army, hideous in war-paint and plumed for battle. 
Their ceremonies began. The woods rang back their 
songs and yells, as with frantic gesticulations they 

tinant. Dans combien de temps pourriez-vous bien avoir assemble voz 
gens prets a marcher? Dans trois jours dist Satirona [Satouriona], 
nous et nos subjects pourrons nous rendre icy, pour partir avec vous. Et 
ce pendant, (dist le cappitaine Gourguc) vous donnerez bon ordre que le 
tout soit tenu secrect : aifin que les Espaignols n'en puissent sentir le 
vent, Ne vous soulciez, dirent les rois, nous leur voullons plus de mal 
que vous," etc. etc. 



l.V.S.l PREPARES FOR THE ATTACK. 



U9 



brandished their war-clubs and vaunted their deeds of 
prowess. Then they drank the black drink, endowed 
with mystic virtues against hardship and danger; and 
Gourgues himself pretended to swallow the nauseous 
decoction.^ 

These ceremonies consumed the day. It was even- 
ing before the allies tiled off into their forests, and 
took the path for the Spanish forts. The French, on 
their part, were to repair by sea to the rendezvous. 
Gourgues mustered and addressed his men. It was 
needless : their ardor was at fever-height. They broke 
in upon his words, and demanded to be led at once 
against the enemy. Fran5ois Bourdelais, with twenty 
sailors, was left with the ships. Gourgues affection- 
ately bade him farewell. 

" If I am slain in this most just enterprise," he said, 
" I leave all in your charge, and pray you to carry back 
my soldiers to France." 

There were many embracing-s among- the excited 
Frenchmen, — many sympathetic tears from those who 
were to stay behind, — many messages left with them 
for wives, children, friends, and mistresses ; and then 



1 The "black drink " was, till a recent period, in use among the Creeks. 
It is a strong decoction of the plant popularly called cassina, or nupon- 
tea. ^lajor Swan, deputy-agent for the Creeks in 1791, thus describes 
their belief in its properties : — " that it purifies them from all sin, and 
leaves them in a state of perfect innocence ; that it inspires them with an 
invincible prowess in war ; and that it is the onl}' solid cement of friend- 
ship, benevolence, and hospitality." Swan's account of their mode of 
drinking and ejecting it corresponds perfectly with Le Moyne's picture 
in De Bry. See the Government publication, Uistory, Condition, and 
Prospects of Indian Tribes, V. 266. 
13* 



/s 



130 DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [1568. 

this valiant band pushed their bouts from shore.^ It 
was a hare-brained venture, for, as young Debre had 
assured them, the Spaniards on the River of May were 
four hundred in number, secure behind their ramparts.^ 
Hour after hour the sailors pulled at tiie oar. They 
2:lided slowly by the sombre shores in the shimmering 
moonlight, -to the sound of the murmuring surf and 
the moaning pine-trees. In the gray of the morning, 
they came to the mouth of a river, probably the Nas- 
sau ; and here a northeast wind set in with a violence 
that almost wrecked their boats. Their Indian allies 
were waiting on the bank, but for a while the gale de- 
layed their crossing. The bolder French would lose 
no time, rowed through the tossing waves, and, landing 
safely, left their boats, and pushed into the forest. 
Gourgues took the lead, in breastplate and back-piece. 
At his side marched the young chief Olotoraca, a 
French pike in his hand ; and the files of arquebuse- 
men and armed sailors followed close behind. They 
plunged through swamps, hewed their way through 
brambly thickets and the matted intricacies of the for- 
ests, and, at five in the afternoon, wellnigh spent with 
fatigue and hunger, came to a river or inlet of the sea,^ 

1 " Cecy attendrist fort le cueur de tous, et mesmement des mariniers 
qui denieuroient pour la garde des navires, lesquels ne peurent contcnii 
leurs larmes, ct fut ceste departie plaine de compassion d'ou'ir tanl 
d'adieux d'une part et d'aultre, et tant de charges et recommandations 
de la part de ceulx qui s'en alloient a leurs parents et amis, et h, leurs 
femnies et alliez au cas qu'ils ne retournassent." — Precost, 337. 

2 De Gourgues MS ; Basanier, 117 ; Charlevoix, I. 99. 

3 Talbot Inlet 1 Compare Sparks, American Biogmpliy, 2d Ser. Vfl 
128. 



15o8.] HIS CRITICAL POSITION. j^j 

not far from the first Spanish fort. Here they found 
three hundred Indians waiting for thenni. 

Tired as he was, Gourgues would not rest. He 
w^ould fain attack at daybreak, and with ten arquehus- 
iers and his Indian guide he set forth to reconnoitre. 
Night closed upon him. It was a vain task to struggle 
on, in pitchy darkness, among trunks of .trees, fallen 
logs, tangled vines, and swollen streams. Gourgues 
returned, anxious and gloomy. An Indian chief ap- 
proached him, read through the darkness his perturbed 
look, and offered to lead him by a better path along the 
' margin of the sea. Gourgues joyfully assented, and 
ordered all his men to march. The Indians, better 
skilled in woodcraft,. chose the shorter course through 
the forest. 

The French forgot their weariness, and pressed on 
with speed. At dawn they and their allies met on the 
bank of a stream, beyond which, and very near, was 
the fort. But the tide was in. They essayed to cross 
in vain. Greatly vexed, — for he had hoped to take 
.he enemy asleep, — Gourgues withdrew his soldiers 
into the forest, where they were no sooner ensconced 
than a drenching rain fell, and they had much ado 
to keep their gun-matches burning. The light grew 
fast. Gourgues plainly saw the fort, whose defences 
seemed slight and unfinished. He even saw the Span- 
iards at work within. A feverish interval elapsed. 
At length the tide was out, — so far, at least, that the 
stream was fordable. A little higher up, a clump of 
trees lay between it and the fort. Behind this friendly 



152 DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [1568 

screen the passage was begun. Each man tied his 
powder-flask to his steel cap, held his arquebuse above 
his head with one hand, and grasped his sword with the 
other. The channel was a bed of oysters. The sharp 
shells cut their feet as they waded through. But the 
farther bank was gained. They emerged from the 
water, drenched, lacerated, bleeding", but with unabated 
mettle. Under cover of the trees Gourg-ues set them 
in array. They stood with kindling eyes, and hearts 
throbbing, but not with fear. Gourgues pointed to 
the Spanish fort, seen by glimpses through the trees. 
" Look ! " he said, " there are the robbers who have 
stolen this land from our King ; there are the mur- 
derers who have butchered our countrymen ! " ^ With 
voices eager, fierce, but half suppressed, they demanded 
to be led on. 

Gourgues gave the word. Cazenove, his lieutenant, 
with thirty men, pushed for the fort-gate ; he himself, 
with the main body, for the glacis. It was near noon ; 
the Spaniards had just finished their meal, and, says the 
narrative, " were still picking their teeth," when a 
startled cry rang in their ears, — 

" To arms ! to arms ! The French are coming !, 
the French are coming!" 

It was the voice ol a cannoneer who had that mo- 
ment mounted th(* rampart and seen the assailants 



1 " . . . . et, leur monstrant le fort qu'ils pouvoient entreveoir Ji 
travers les arbres, voilk (dist il) les volleurs qui ont voile ceste terre ^ 
nostre Roy, voilsi les meurtriers qui ont massacre nos fran9ois." — De 
Gourgues MS. ; Gai/lard MS. Compare Charlevoix, I. 100. 



1668.] THE FORTS CARRIED, J 53 

advancing in unbroken ranks, with heads lowered and 
weapons at the charge. He fired his cannon among 
them. He even had time to load and fire again, when 
the light-limbed Olotoraca bounded forward, ran up the 
glacis, leaped the unfinished ditch, and drove his, pike 
thi'ough the Spaniard from breast to back. Gourgues 
was now on the g-lacis, when he heard Cazenove shout- 
ing fi'om the gate that the Spaniards were escaping on 
that side. He turned and led his men thither at a run. 
In a moment, the fugitives, sixty in all, were enclosed 
between his party and that of his lieutenant. The In- 
dians, too, came leaping to the spot. Not a Spaniard 
escaped. All were cut down but a few, reserved by 
Gourgues for a more inglorious end.^ 

Meanwhile the Spaniards in the other fort, on the 
opposite shore, cannonaded the victors without ceasing. 
The latter turned four captured guns against them. 
One of Gourgues's boats, a very large one, had been 
brought along-shore. He entered it, with eighty sol- 
diers, and pushed for the farther bank. With loud 
yells, the Indians leaped into th(j water. From shore 
to shore, the St. John's was alive with them. Each 
held his bow and arrows aloft in one hand, while he 
swam with the other. A panic seized the garrison as 
they saw the savage multitude. They broke out of the 
fort and fled into the forest. But the. French had 
already landed ; and, throwing themselves in the path 

1 Barcia's Spanish account agrees ■with the De Gourgues MS., except 
in a statement of tlie former that the Indians had formed an ambuscade 
into whicli the Spaniards fell. 



Ig^ DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [15G«. 

of the fugitives, they greeted them with a storm of lead. 
The terrified wretches recoiled ; hut flight was vain. 
The Indian whoop rang behind them ; war-clubs and 
arrows finished the work. Gourgues's utmost efforts 
saved but fifteen, — saved them, not out of mercy, but 
from a refinement of vengeance.^ 

The next day was Quasimodo Sunday, or the Sun- 
day after Easter. Gourgues and his men remained 
quiet, making ladders for the o-'sault on Fort San 
Mateo. Meanwhile the whole foresi ^'as in arms, and, 
far and near, the Indians were wild \a '.th excitement. 
They beset the Spanish fort till not a soldier could 
venture out. The garrison, aware of their danger, 
though ignorant of its extent, devised an expedient to 
gain information ; and one of them, painted and feathered 
like an Indian, ventured within Gourgues's outj)osts. 
He himself chanced to be at hand, and by liis side 
walked his constant attendant, Olotoraca. The keen- 
eyed young savage pierced the cheat at a glance. The 
spy was seized, and, being examined, declared that 
there were two hundred and sixty Spaniards in San 
Mateo, and that they believed the French to be two 
thousand, and were so frightened that they did not 
know what they were doing. 

Gourgues, well pleased, pushed on to attack them. 
On Monday evening he sent forward the Indians to 
ambush themselves on both sides of the fort. In the 

1 It must be admitted tJiat there is a savor of romance in the French 
narrative. The admissions of tlie Spanish annalist prove, however, that 
it has a broad basis of truth. 



1668.] THE FINAL TKIUMPH. I55 

morning- he followed with his Frenchmen ; and, as the 
glittering ranks came into view, defiling between the 
forest and the river, the Spaniards opened on them 
with culverins from a projecting bastion. The French 
took cover in the forest with which the hills below and 
behind the fort were densely overgrown. Here, en- 
sconced in the edge of the woods, where, himself unseen, 
he could survey the whole extent of the defences, Gour- 
gues presently descried a strong party of Spaniards 
issuing- from their works, crossing the ditch, and ad- 
vancing to reconnoitre. On this, returning to his men, 
he sent Cazenove, with a detachment, to station him- 
self at a point well hidden by trees on the flank of the 
Spaniards. The latter, with strange infatuation, con- 
tinued their advance. Gourgues and his followers 
pushed on through the thickets to meet them. As the 
Spaniards reached the edge of the clearing, a deadly 
fire blazed in their fixces, and, before the smoke cleared, 
the French were among them, sword in hand. The 
survivors would have fled ; but Cazenove's detachment 
fell upon their rear, and all were killed or taken. 

When their comrades in the fort beheld their fate, 
a panic seized them. Conscious of their own deeds, 
perpetrated on this very spot, they could hope no mercy. 
Their terror multiplied immeasurably the numbers of 
their enemy. They deserted the fort in a body, and 
fled into the woods most remote from the French. But 
here a deadlier foe awaited them ; for a host of Indians 
leaped up from ambush. Then rose those hideous war- 
cries which have curdled the boldest blood and blanched 



156 DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. 11568. 

the manliest cheek. Tlien the forest ^ warriors, with 
savage ecstasy, wreaked their long arrears of vengeance. 
The French, too, hastened to the spot, and lent their 
swords to the slaughter. A few prisoners were saved 
alive ; the rest were slain ; and thus did the Spaniards 
make bloody atonement for the butchery of Fort Caro- 
line.^ 

But Gourgues's vengeance was not yet appeased. 
Hard by the fort, the trees were pointed out to him on 
which Menendez had hanged his captives, and placed 
over them the inscription, — "Not as to Frenchmen, 
but as to Lutherans." 

Gourgues ordered the Spanish prisoners to be led 
thither. 

" Did you think," he sternly said, as the pallid 
wretches stood ranged before him, " that so vile a 
treachery, so detestable a cruelty, against a King so 
potent and a nation so generous, would go unpunished '? 
I, one of the humblest gentlemen among my King's 
sul)jects, have charged myself with avenging it. Even 
if the Most Christian and the Most Catholic Kings had 
been enemies, at deadly war, such perfidy and extreme 
cruelty would still have been unpardonable. Now that 
they are friends and close allies, there is no name vile 
enough to brand your deeds, no punishment sharp 
enough to requite them. But though you cannot sutler 

1 Tliis is tlie French account. The Spjiniard, Barcia, with greater 
probability, says that some of tlie Spaniards escaped to the hills. With 
this exception, the Frencli and Spanish accounts agree. Barcia ascribes 
the defeat of his countrymen to an exaggerated idea of tlie enemy's force. 
The governor, Gonzulo de Villaroel, was, he says, among those wlio es- 
caped 



1568.] THE FORTS DESTROYED. . l^n 

as you deserve, you shall suffer all that an enemy can 
honorabl}!' inflict, that your example may teach others 
to observe the peace and alliance which you have so 
perfidiously violated." * 

They were hanged where the French had hung 
before them ; and over them was nailed the inscription, 
burned with a hot iron on a tablet of pine, — " Not as 
to Spaniards, but as to Traitors, Robbers, and Mur- 
derers." ^ 

Gourgues's mission was fulfilled. To occupy the 
country had never been his intention ; nor was it possi- 
ble, for the Spaniards were still in force at St. Augus- 
tine. His was a whirlwind visitation, — to ravage, 
ruin, and vanish. He harangued the Indians, and 
exhorted them to demolish the fort. They fell to the 
work with keen alacrity, and in less than a day not 
one stone was left on another.^ 

Gourgues returned to the forts at the mouth of the 

1 "... . Mais encores que vous ne puissiez endurer la peine que vous 
avez meritce, il est besoin que vous enduriez celle que renncmy vous 
peult donner lionnestement : affin que par vostre exemple les autres ap- 
preignent a garder la paix et alliance que si mescliamment et malheu- 
reusement vous avez violee. Cela dit, ils sont branehez aux mesuies 
arbres ou ils avoient penduz les Francois." — De Gourgues 3IS. 

2 " Je ne faicts cecy conime a Espaignolz, n'y conirae a Marannes ; 
mais comme a traistres, volleurs, et meurtriers." — De Gourgues ]\JS. 

Maranne, or Marane, was a word of reproach applied to Spaniards. It 
seems originally to have meant a Moor. Michelet calls Ferdinand of 
Spain, " ce vienx Marane avare." The Spanish Pope, Alexander the Sixth 
was always nicknamed le Marane by his enemy and successor, Rovere. 

On returning to the forts at the moutli of the river, Gourgues hanged 
all the prisoners he had left there. One of them, says the narrative, con- 
fessed that he had aided in hanging the French. 

8 " Ilz feirent telle diligence qu'en moings d'ung jour ilz ne laiss^reiit 
pierro sur picrre." — De Gourgues MS. 
14 



158 DOMINIQUE DE GOURGUES. [l-OGS. 

river, destroyed them also, and took up liis march for 
his ships. It was a triumphal procession. The Indian? 
thronged around the victors with gifts of fish and 
game ; and an old woman declaied that she was now 
ready to die, since she had seen the French once more. 

The ships were ready for sea. Gourgues bade his 
disconsolate allies farewell, and nothing- wouhl content 
them but a promise to return soon. Before embarking, 
he addressed his own men : — 

" My friends, let us give thanks to God for the suc- 
cess He has granted us. It is He who saved us from 
tempests ; it is He who inclined the hearts of the In- 
dians towards us ; it is He who blinded the understand- 
ing of the Spaniards. They were four to one in forts 
well armed and provisioned. Our right was our only 
strength ; and yet w^e have conquered. Not to our own 
swords, but to God only, we owe our victory. Then 
let us thank Him, my friends; let us never forget His 
favors ; and let us pray that He may continue them, 
saving us from dangers, and guiding us safely home. 
Let us pray, too, that He may so dispose the hearts of 
men that our perils and toils may find favor in the eyes 
of our King and of all France, since all we have done 
was done for the King's service and for the honor of 
our country." ^ 

Thus Spaniards and Frenchmen alike laid their reek- 
ing swords on God's altar. 

Gourgues sailed on the third of May, and, gazing 

1 De Gourgues MS. The speech is a little condensed in the trans- 
lation. 



1568.] ARRIVAL IN FRANCE. — HIS DEATH. J^Q 

back along their foaming- wake, the adventurers looked 
their last on the scene of their exploits. Their success 
had cost its price. A few of their number had fallen, 
and hardships still awaited the survivors, Gourgues, 
however, reached Rochelle on the day of Pentecost, and 
the Huguenot citizens greeted him with all honor. At 
court it fared worse with him. The King, still obse- 
quious to Spain, looked on him coldly and askance. 
The Spanish minister demanded his head. It vs^as 
hinted to him that he was not safe, and he withdrew to 
Rouen, where he found asylum among his friends. His 
fortune was gone ; debts contracted for his expedition 
weighed heavily on him ; and for years he lived in 
obscurity, almost in misery. At length his prospects 
brightened. Elizabeth of England learned his merits 
and his misfortunes,, and invited him to enter her ser- 
vice. The King, who, says the Jesuit historian, had 
always at heart been delighted with his achievement,^ 
openly restored him to favor ; while, some years later, 
Don Antonio tendered him command of his fleet, to 
defend his riijht to the crown of Portuo^al against 
Philip the Second. Gourgues, happy once more to 
cross swords with the Spaniards, gladly embraced this 
offer ; but, on his way to join the Portuguese prince, 
he died at Tours of a sudden illness.^ The French 
mourned the loss of the man who had wiped a blot 
from the national scutcheon, and respected his memory 

1 Charlevoix, Nouvelle France, I. 105. 

* Basanier, 123; Lescarbot. 141: Barcia, 137; Gaillard, C'Tbtices dea 
ManuscritR de la Bibliolheque dn RoL MS. 



IQQ DOMINIQUE I)E GOURGUES. [1568. 

as that of one of the best captains of his time. And, 
in truth, if a zealous patriotism, a fiery valor, and skil- 
ful leadership are worthy of honor, then is such a trib- 
ute due to Dominique de Gourgues, despite the shadow- 
ing vices which even the spirit of that wild age can only 
palliate, the personal hate that aided the impulse of his 
patriotism, and the implacable cruelty that sullied his 
courage. 

Romantic as his exploit was, it lacked the fulness of 
poetic justice, since the chief offender escaped him. 
While Gourgues was sailing towards Florida, Menen- 
dez was in Spain, high in favor at court, where he told 
to approving ears how he had butchered the heretics. 
Boroia, the sainted General of the Jesuits, was his fast 
friend ; and two years later, when he returned to Amer- 
ica, the Pope, Paul the Fifth, regarding him as an 
instrument for the conversion of the Indians, wrote him 
a letter with his benediction.-^ He reestablished his 
power in Florida, rebuilt Fort San Mateo, and taught 
the Indians that in death or flight was the only refuge 
from Spanish tyranny. They murdered his mission- 
aries and spurned their doctrine. " The Devil is the 
best thing in the world," they cried ; " we adore him ; 
he makes men brave." Even the Jesuits despaired, 
and abandoned Florida in disgust. 

Menendez was summoned home, where fresh honors 
awaited him from the crown, though, according to the 
somewhat doubtful assertion of the heretical Grotius, 
his deeds had left a stain upon his name among the 

1 " Carta de San Pio V. a Pedro Menendez," Barcia, 139. 



1574.] DEATH OF MENENDEZ. IgJ 

people.^ He was given command of the armada of 
three hundred sail and twenty thousand men, which, in 
1574, was gathered at Santander against England and 
Flanders. But now, at the height of his fortunes, his 
career was abruptly closed. He died suddenly, at the 
age of fifty-five. What caused his death 1 Grotius 
affirms that he killed himself; but, in his eagerness to 
point the moral of his story, he seems to have over- 
stepped the bounds of historic truth. The Spanish 
bigot was rarely a suicide ; for the rites of Christian 
burial and repose in consecrated ground were denied 
to the remains of the self-murderer. There is positive 
evidence, too, in a codicil to the will of Menendez, 
dated at Santander on the fifteenth of September, 1574", 
that he was on that day seriously ill, though, as the 
instrument declares, " of sound mind." There is rea- 
son, then, to believe that this pious cut-throat died a 
natural death, crowned with honors, and soothed by 
the consolations of his religion.^ 

It was he who crushed French Protestantism in 
America. To plant religious freedom on this Western 
soil was not the mission of France. It was for her to 
rear in Northern forests the banner of Absolutism and 

1 Grotius, Annates, 63. 

'^ For a copy of portions of the will, and other interesting papers con- 
cerning Menendez, I am indebted to Buckingham Smith, Esq., whose 
patient and zealous research in the archives of Spain has thrown riew 
light on Spanish North American history. 

There is a brief notice of Menendez in De la Mota's History of the Order 
of Santiago, (1599,) and also another of later date written to accompany 
bis engraved portrait. Neither of them conveys any hint of suicide. 

Menendez was a Commander of the Order of Santiago. 
14* 



162 DOMmiQUE DE GOURGUES. [1568. 

of Rome ; while, among the rocks of Massachusetts, 
England and Calvin fronted her in dogged opposition. 
Long before the ice-crusted pines of Plymouth had 
listened to the rugged psalmody of the Puritan, the 
solitudes of Western New York and the shadowy 
wilderness of Lake Huron were trodden by the iron 
heel of the soldier and the sandalled foot of the Fran- 
ciscan friar. France was the true pioneer of the Great 
West. They who bore the fleur-de-lis were always in 
the van, patient, daring, indomitable. And foremost 
on this bright roll of forest- chivalry stands the half- 
forgotten name of Samuel de Champlain. 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN 

AND 

HIS ASSOCIATES; 

WITH A 

VIEW OF EAELIER FRENCH ADVENTURE IN AMERICA, 

AND THE 

LEGENDS OF THE NORTHERN COASTS, 



CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 



Samuel de Champlain has been fitly called the 
Father of New France. In him were embodied her 
religious zeal and romantic spirit of adventure. Be- 
fore the close of his career, purged of heresy, she 
took the posture which she held to the day of her 
death, — in one hand the crucifix, in the other the 
sword. His life, full of significance, is the true be- 
ginning of her eventful history. 

In respect to Champlain, the most satisfactory 
authorities are his own writings. These consist of 
the unpublished journal of his voyage to the West 
Indies and Mexico, of which the original is pre- 
served at Dieppe; the account of his first voyage to 
the St. Lawrence, published at Paris in 1604^ under 
the title Des Saiivages ; a narrative of subsequent ad- 
ventures and explorations, published at Paris in 1613, 
1615, and 1617, under the title of Voyage de la Nou- 
velle France j a narrative of still later discoveries, 
published at Paris in 16S0 and 16.^7> a"^? finally, 
a compendium of all his previous publications, with 
much additional matter, published in quarto at Paris 



165 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 

in 1632, and illustrated by a very curious and interest- 
ing map. 

Next in value to the writings of Cham plain are 
those of his associate, Lescarbot, whose Histoire de la 
Nouvelle France is of great interest and authority as 
far as it relates the author's personal experience. The 
editions here consulted are those of 1612 and 1618. 
The Muses de la Nouvelle France^ and other minor 
works of Lescarbot, have also been examined. 

The Etablksement de la Foy of Le Clerc is of 
great value in connection with the present subject, 
containing documents and extracts of documents not 
elsewhere to be found. It is of extreme rarity, having 
been suppressed by the French government soon after 
its appearance in 1691. 

The Histoire du Canada of Sagard, the curious 
Relation of the Jesuit Biard, and those of the Jesuits 
Charles Lalemant, Le Jeune, and Brebeuf, together 
with two narratives — one of them perhaps written by 
Champlain — in the eighteenth and nineteenth volumes 
of the 3ferciire Frangais^ may also be mentioned as 
among the leading authorities of the body of this work. 
Those of the introductory portion need not be speci- 
fied at present. 

Of manuscripts used, the principal are the Bref 
Discours of Champlain, or the journal of his voyage 
to the West Indies and Mexico ; the Grand InsU" 
laire et Pilotage d' Andre Thevet, an ancient and very 
curious document, in which the superstitions of Bre- 
ton and Norman fishermen are recounted by one who 



CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. IQJ 

firmly believed them ; and a variety of official papers, 
obtained for the writer, through the agency of Mr. 
B. P. Poore, from the archives of France. 

The writer is indebted to G. B. Faribault, Esq., of 
Quebec, and to the late Jacques Viger, Esq., of Mon- 
treal, for the use of valuable papers and memoranda ; 
to the Rev. John Cordner, of Montreal, for various 
kind acts of cooperation ; to Jared Sparks, LL. D., for 
the use of a copy of Le Clerc's Etablissement de la 
Foy ', to Dr. E. B. O'Callaghan, for assistance in 
examining rare books in the State Library of New 
York ; to John Carter Brown, Esq., and Colonel 
Thomas Aspinwall, for the use of books from their 
admirable collections ; while to the libraries of Har- 
vard College and of the Boston Athenaeum he owes a 
standing debt of gratitude. 

For the basis of descriptive passages he is indebted 
to early tastes and habits which long since made him 
familiar with most of the localities of the narrative. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

1488—1543. 

EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE IN NORTH AMERICA. 

Teaditions of French Discovery. — Normans, Bretons, Basques. — 
Legends and Superstitions. — Verrazzano. — Jacques Cartier. — 
Quebec. — Hochelaga. — Winter Miseries. — Eoberval. — The Isle 
of Demons. — The Colonists of Cap Rouge. 

When America was first made known to Europe, 
the part assumed by France on the borders of that 
new world was peculiar and is little recognized. While 
the Spaniard roamed sea and land, burning for achieve- 
ment, red-hot with bigotry and avarice, and while Eng- 
land, with soberer steps and a less dazzling result, fol- 
lowed in the path of discovery and gold-hunting, it was 
from France that those barbarous shores first learned 
to serve the ends of peaceful commercial industry. 

A French writer, however, advances a more am- 
bitious claim. In the year l^SS, four years before 
the first voyage of Columbus, America, he maintains, 
was found by Frenchmen. Cousin, a navigator of 
Dieppe, being at sea ofi' the African coast, was forced 
westward, it is said, by winds and currents to within 
sight of an unknown shore, where he presently descried 
the mouth of a great river. On board his ship was 
one Pinzon, whose conduct became so mutinous, that, 

15 



I'TQ EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1497. 

on his return to Dieppe, Cousin made complaint to 
the magistracy, who thereupon dismissed the offender 
from the maritime service of the town. Pinzon went 
to Spain, became known to Cohimbus, told him the 
discovery, and joined him on his voyage of 1492.^ 

To leave this cloudland of tradition, and approach the 
confines of recorded history. The Normans, offspring of 
an ancestry of conquerors, — the Bretons, that stubborn, 
hardy, unchanging race, who, among Druid monu- 
ments, changeless as themselves, still cling with Celtic 
obstinacy to the thoughts and habits of the past, — the 
Basques, that primeval people, older than history, — 
all frequented from a very early date the cod-banks of 
Newfoundland. There is some reason to believe that 
this fishery existed before the voyage of Cabot in 
1497 J ^ there is strong evidence that it began as early 

1 M€moires pour servir a VHistoire de Dieppe ; Guerin, Navigafeurs Fran- 
^ais, 47; Estancelin, Navigateurs Normands, 332. This last writer's re 
searcli to verify tlie tradition was vain. Tlie bombardment of 1694 nearly 
destroyed the archives of Dieppe, and nothing could be learned from 
the Pinzons of Palos. Yet the story may not be quite void of founda- 
tion. In 1500, Cabral was blown within siglit of Brazil in a similar man- 
ner. Herrera (Hist. General, d. 1. 1. I. c. III.) gives several parallel instances 
as having readied the ears of Columbus before his first voyage. Com- 
pare the introduction to Lok's translation of Peter Martyr, and Eden and 
Willes, Histori] of Travayles, fol. 1 ; also a story in the Journal de I' Amerique, 
(Troyes, 1709,) and Gomara, Hist. Gen. des Indes Occidentales, I. I. c. XIII. 
These last, however, are probably inventions. 

In the Description des Costes de la Mer Oce'ane, a MS. of the seventeenth 
century, it is said that a French pilot of St. Jean de Luz first discovered 
America: — "II fut le premier jete en la coste de I'Ame'rique par une 
violente tempeste, laissa son papier journal, communiqua la route qu'il 
avoit faite a Coulon, chez qui il mourut." See Monteil, Traite de Ma- 
f^riaux Manuscrils, I. 840. The story is scarcely worth the mention. 

2 " Terra hsec ob lucrosissimam piscationis utilitatem summalittcrarum 



1517.] NEWrOUNDLANl>, -[71 

as the year 1504<;^ and it is well established that in 
1517 fifty Castilian. French, and Portuguese vessels 

memoria a Gallis adiri solita, & ante mille sexcentos annos frequentari 
solita est." — Postel, cited by Lescarbot, I. 237, and by Hornot, 260. 

" De toute memoire, & des plusieurs siecles noz Diepois, Maloins, 
Rochelois, & autres mariniers du Havre de Grace, de Honfleur & autres 
lieux, font les voyages ordinaires ea oes pa'is-la pour la pecherie des 
Morues." — Lescarbot, I. 236. 

Compare the following extracts : — 

" Les Basques et les Bretons sont depuis plusieurs siecles les seuls qui 
se soient employes a la peclie de baliiines et des molues ; et il est fort re- 
marquable que S. Cabot, deeouvrant la cote de Labrador, y trouva le 
nora de Bacallos, qui signifle des Molues en langue des Basques." — 31S. 
in the Hoyal Library of Versailles. 

" Quant au nom de Bacalos, il est de I'imposition de nos Basques, les- 
quels appellent une Morue, Bacaillos, & a leur imitation nos peuples de la 
Nouvelle Ei-ance ont appris a nommer aussi la Morue Bacaillos, quoy- 
qu'en leur langage le nom propre de la morue soit Apege'." — Lescarbot, 
I. 287. 

De Laet also says incidentally, (p. 39,) that " Bacalaos " is Basque for 
a codfish. 

" Sebastian Cabot himself named those lands Baccalaos, because that in 
the seas thereabout he found so great multitudes of certain bigge fishes, 
much like unto Tunies, (which the inhabitants call Baccalaos) that they 
sometimes stayed his shippes." -7 Peter Martyr in Hakluyt, III. 30 ; Eden 
and Willes, 125. 

If, in the original Basque, Baccalaos is the word for a codfish, and if 
Cabot found it in use among the inhabitants of Newfoundland, it is hard 
to escape the conclusion that Basques had been there before him. 

This name, Baccalaos, is variously used by the old writers. Cabot 
gave it to the continent, as far as he coasted it. The earliest Spanish 
writers give it an application almost as comprehensive. On Wytfleit's 
map (1597) it is confined to Newfoundland and Labrador; on Ramusio's, 
(1556,) to the southern parts of Newfoundland; on Lescarbot's, (1612,) 
to the Island of Cape Breton; on De Laet's, (1640,) to a small island 
east of Newfoundland. 

1 Discorso a'un gran capitano di viare Francese, Ramusio, III. 423. Ra- 
musio does not know the name of the "■gran capitano," but Estancelin 
proves him to have been Jean Parmentier, of Diepp^e. From internal 
evidence, his memoir was written in 1539, and he says that Newfound- 
land was visited by Bretons and Normans thirty-five years before. 
"Britones et Normani anno a Christo nato M,CCCCC,IIII has terras 



IJ2 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. fl52?. 

were engaged in it at once; while in 1527, on the 
third of August, eleven sail of Norman, one of Bre- 
ton, and two of Portuguese fishermen, were to be 
found in the Bay of St. John.^ 

From this time forth, the Newfoundland fishery was 
never abandoned. French, English, Spanish, and Portu- 
guese made resort to the Banks, always jealous, often 
quarrelling, but still drawing up treasure from those 
exhaustless mines, and bearing home bountiful provis 
ion against the season of Lent. 

On this dim verge of the known world, there were 
other perils than those of the waves. The rocks and 
shores of those sequestered seas had, so thought the voy- 
agers, other tenants than the walrus and the scream- 
ing sea-fowl, the bears who stole away their fish before 
their eyes,^ and the wild natives dressed in seal-skins. 
Griffins — so ran the story — infested the mountains 
of Labrador.^ Two islands, north of Newfoundland, 

invenere." — Wytfleit, Descriptionis Ptolemaicce Augmentum, 185. The 
translation of Wytfleit (Douay, 1611) bears also the name of Antoine 
Magin. It is cited by Champlain as " Niflet & Antoine Magin." See 
also Ogilby, America, 128; Forster, Voyages, 'kZl ; Baumgartens, I. 616; 
Biard, Relation, 2; Bergeron, Traits de la Navigation, c. XIV. 

1 Herrera, d. II. 1. V. c. III. ; Letter of John Rut, dated St. John's, 
3 August, 1527, in Purchas, III. 809. 

The name of Cape Breton, found on the oldest maps, is a memorial of 
those early French voyages. Cartier, in 1534, found the capes and bays 
of Newfoundland already named by his countrymen who had preceded 
him. 

Navarrete's position, that the fisheries date no farther back thi«n 1540, ia 
wholly untenable. 

2 " The Beares also be as bold, which will not spare at midday to take 
your fish before your' face." — Letter of Anthonie Parkhurst, 1578, in Hak- 
luyt, IIL 170. 

» Wytfleit, 190 ; Gomara, 1. I. c. 11. 



.530.] THE ISLE OF DEMONS. J-T^^ 

were given over to the fiends from whom they derived 
their name, the Isles of Demons. An old map pic- 
tures their occupants at length, devils rampant, with 
wings, horns, and tail.^ The passing voyager heard 
the din of their infernal orgies, and woe to the sailor 
or the fisherman who ventured alone into the haunted 
woods.^ " True it is," writes the old cosraographer 
Thevet, " and I myself have heard it, not from one, 
but from a great number of the sailors and pilots with 
whom I have made many voyages, that, when they 
passed this way, they heard in the air, on the tops and 
about the masts, a great clamor of men's voices, con- 
fused and inarticulate, such as you may hear from the 
crowd at a fair or market - place ; whereupon they 
well knew that the Isle of Demons was not far off." 
And he adds, that he himself, when among the Indians, 
bad seen them so tormented by these infernal perse- 
cutors, that they would fall into his arms for relief, 
on which, repeating a passage of the Gospel of St. 
John, he had driven the imps of darkness to a speedy 
exodus. They are comely to look upon, he further 
tells us, yet, by reason of their malice, that island is 

1 See Ramusio, III. Compare La Popeliniere, Les Trois Mondes, II. 25. 

2 Le Grand Insuluire et Pilotage d'Andr^ Thevet, Cosmor/raphe du Ray, 
(1586,) MS. I am indebted to G. B. Faribault, Esq., of Quebec, for 
a copy of this curious paper. The islands are perhaps those of Belle 
Isle and Quirpon. More probably, however, that most held in dread, 
"pour aidant que les Demons y font terrible tintamaire," is a small island 
near the northeast extremity of Newfoundland, variously called, by 
Thevet, Isle de Fiche, Isle de Roberval, and Isle des Demons. It 
is the same with the Isle Fichet of Sanson, and the Fisliot Island of 
some modern maps. A curious legend connected with it will be given 
hereafter. 

15* 



[-74, EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1506. 

of late abandoned, and all who dwelt there have fled 
for refuge to the main.^ 

While French fishermen plied their trade along these 
gloomy coasts, the French government spent its ener- 
gies on a different field. The vitality of the kingdom 
was wasted in Italian wars. Milan and Naples offered 
a more tempting prize than the wilds of Baccalaos.^ 
Eager for glory and for plunder, a swarm of restless 
nobles followed their knight-errant king, the \^'ould-be 
paladin, who, misshapen in body and fantastic in mind, 
had yet the power to raise a storm which the lapse of 
generations could not quell. Under Charles the Eighth 
and his successor, war and intrigue ruled the day ; and 
in the whirl of Italian politics there was no leisure to 
think of a new world. 

Yet private enterprise was not quite benumbed. In 
1506, one Denis of Honfleur explored the Gulf of 
St. Lawrence;^ two years later, Aubert of Dieppe 
followed on his track ; * and in 1518, the Baron de 
Lery made an abortive attempt at settlement on Sable 
Island, where the cattle left by him remained and mul- 
tiplied.^ 

The crown passed at length to Francis of Angou- 

1 Thevet, Cosmographie, (1575,) II. c. V. A very rare book. I am 
indebted to Dr. E. B. O'Callaghan for copies of the passages in it relat. 
ing to subjects within the scope of the present work. Thevet here con- 
tradicts himself in regard to the position of the haunted island, which he 
places at 60° North Latitude. 

2 See ante, p. 170, note 2. 

8 Parmentier in Ramusio, III. 423 ; Estancelin, 42-222. 

* Ibid. 

» Lescarbotj I. 22 ; De Laet, Novus Orbis, 39 ; Bergeron, c. XV. 



1523.] VEERAZZANO. IJg 

leme. There were in his nature seeds of nobleness, — 
seeds destined to bear little fruit. Chivalry and honor 
were always on his lips ; but Francis the First, a for- 
sworn gentleman, a despotic king, vainglorious, selfish, 
sunk in debaucheries, was but the type of an era which 
retained the forms of the Middle Age without its soul, 
and added to a still prevailing barbarism the pestilen- 
tial vices which hung fog-like around the dawn of 
civilization. Yet he esteemed arts and letters, and, 
still more, coveted the eclat which they could give. 
The light which was beginning to pierce the feudal 
darkness gathered its rays around his throne. Italy 
was rewarding the robbers who preyed on her with 
the treasures of her knowledge and her culture ; and 
Italian genius, of whatever stamp, found ready patron- 
age at the hands of Francis. Among artists, philos- 
ophers, and men of letters, enrolled in his service, 
stands the humbler name of a Florentine navigator, 
John Verrazzano. 

The wealth of the Indies was pouring into the cof- 
fers of Charles the Fifth, and the exploits of Cortes 
had given new lustre to his crown. Francis the First 
begrudged his hated rival the glories and profits of the 
New World. He would fain have his share of the 
prize ; and Verrazzano, with four ships, was despatched 
to seek out a passage westward to the rich kingdom of 
Cathay.^ 

^ // Capitano Giovanni da Verrazzano alia Serenissima Corona, cli Francia, 
Diepa, 8 Lugtio, 1524. This is the original of Vcrrazzano's letter to 
Francis the First, of which Eamusio gives an abridged copy. The copy 



l>yQ EARLY FEENCH ADVENTURE. [1524, 

He was born of an ancient family, which could 
boast, names eminent in Florentine history,^ and of 
which the last survivor died in 1819.^ He had seen 
service by sea and land, and his account of his Amer- 
ican voyage approves him a man of thought and 
observation. Towards the end of the year 1523, his 
four ships sailed from Dieppe ; but a storm fell upon 
him, and, with two of the vessels, he ran back in dis- 
tress to a port of Brittany. What became of the 
other two does not appear. Neither is it clear why, 
after a preliminary cruise against the Spaniards, he 
pursued his voyage with one vessel alone, a caravel 
called the Dolphin. With her he made for Madeira, 
and, on the seventeenth of January, 1524, set sail 
from a barren islet in its neighborhood, and bore 
away for the unknown world. In forty-nine days they 
neared a low shore, not far from the site of Wilming* 
ton in North Carolina, " a newe land," exclaims the 
voyager, "• never before seen of any man, either aun- 
cient or moderne." ^ Yet fires were blazing along the 
coast; and the inhabitants, in human likeness, presently 
appeared, crowding to the water's edge, in wonder and 
admiration, pointing out a landing-place, and making 

before me is a MS. transcript from that in the Magliabecchian, formerly 
in the Strozzi, hbrary at Florence, the document alluded to by Tira- 
boschi, in his notice of Verrazzano. See also another letter, — Fernanda 
Carli a sito Padre a Firenze, — obtained at Florence by Mr. G. W. 
Greene. I am indebted for a copy of it to the Historical Society ol 
Rhode Island. 

1 Eloiji degli Illustri Toscani, cited by Tiraboschi, torn. VII. 382. 

2 Greene in North American Review, No. 97, p. 293. 

^ Hakluyt's translation from Ramusio, in Divers Vojjages, (1682^ 



1524.1 VEERAZZANO. 



177 



profuse gestures of welcome. A sandy beach, thronged 
with astonished Indians ; tall forests behind, of pine, 
laurel, cypress, and fragrant shrubs, " which yeeld most 
sweete savours, farre from the shore," — this was the 
sight which greeted the eyes of the voyagers. 

But what manner of men were the naked, swarthy, 
befeathered crew, running like deer along the border of 
the sea, or screeching welcome from the strand ? The 
French rowed towards the shore for a supply of wa- 
ter. The surf ran high ; they could not land ; but an 
adventurous young- sailor leaped overboard, and swam 
towards the crowd with a gift of beads and trinkets. 
His heart failed him as he drew near ; he flung his 
gift among them, turned, and struck out for the boat. 
The surf dashed him back, flinging him with violence 
on the beach among the recipients of his bounty, who 
seized him by the arms and legs, and, while he called 
lustily for aid, answered him with hideous outcries de- 
signed to allay his terrors. Next they kindled a great 
fire, — doubtless to roast and devour him before the eyes 
of his comrades, gazing in horror from their boat. On 
the contrary, they carefully warmed him, and were try- 
ing to dry his clothes, when, recovering from his be- 
wilderment, he betrayed a strong desire to escape to his 
friends; whereupon, " with great love, clapping him fast 
about, with many embracings," they led him to the 
shore, and stood watching till he had reached the boat. 

It oidy remained to requite this kindness, and an 
opportunity soon occurred ; for, coasting the shores of 
Virginia or Maryland, a party went on shore and 



X'^8 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1524 

found an old woman, a young one, and several chil- 
dren, hiding- with great terror in the grass. Having, 
by various blandishments, gained their confidence, they 
carried off one of the children as a curiosity, and, since 
the mother was comely, would fain have taken her also, 
but desisted by reason of her continual screaming. 

Verrazzano's next resting-place was the Bay of New 
York. Rowing up in his boat through the Narrows, 
under the steep heights of Staten Island, he saw the 
harbor within dotted with canoes of the feathered 
natives, coming from the shore to welcome him. Bat 
what most engaged the eyes of the white men was the 
fancied signs of mineral wealth in the neighboring hills. 

Following the shores of Long Island, they came to 
Block Island, and thence to the harbor of Newport. 
Here they stayed fifteen days, most courteously re- 
ceived by the inhabitants. Among others, appeared 
two chiefs, gorgeously arrayed in painted deer-skins, 
— kings, as Verrazzano calls them, with attendant 
gentlemen ; while a party of squaws in a canoe, kept 
by their jealous lords at a safe distance from the cara- 
vel, figure in the narrative as the queen and her maids. 
The Indian wardrobe had been taxed to its utmost to 
do the strangers honor; — copper bracelets and wampum 
collars, lynx-skins, raccoon-skins, and faces bedaubed 
with gaudy colors. 

Again they spread their sails, and on the fifth of 
May bade farewell to the primitive hospitalities of 
Newport, steered along the rugged coasts of New 
England, and surveyed, ill -pleased,^ the surf- beaten 



1524.] VERRAZZANO. Jjg 

rocks, the pine-tree and the fir, the shadows and the 
gloom of mighty forests. Here, man and Nature alike 
were savage and repellent. Perhaps some plundering 
straggler from the fishing-hanks, some man-stealer like 
the Portuguese Cortereal, or some kidnapper of chil- 
dren and ravisher of squaws like themselves, had 
warned the children of the woods to beware of the 
worshippers of Christ. Their only intercourse was in 
the way of trade. From the brink of the rocks which 
overhung the sea the In-dians would let down a cord to 
the boat below, demand fish-hooks, knives, and steel, 
in barter for their furs, and, their bargain made, salute 
the voyagers with unseemly gestures of derision and 
scorn. The latter once ventured ashore; but a war- 
whoop and a shower of arrows sent them back in 
haste to their boats. 

Verrazzano coasted the seaboard of Maine, and 
sailed northward as far as Newfoundland, whence, 
provisions failing, he steered for France. He had not 
found a passage to Cathay, but he had explored the 
American coast from the thirty-fourth degree to the 
fiftieth, and at various points had penetrated several 
leagues into the country. On the eighth of July he 
wrote from Dieppe to the King the earliest description 
known to exist of the shores of the United States. 

Great was the joy that hailed his arrival, and great 
the hopes of emolument and wealth from the new- 
found shores.^ The merchants of Lyons were in a 
flush of expectation. For himself, he was earnest to 

1 Fernando Carli, MS. 



130 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. |1537. 

return, plant a colony, and bring the heathen tribes 
within the pale of the Church. But the time was in- 
auspicious. The year of his voyage was to France a 
year of disasters, — defeat in Italy, the loss of Milan, 
the death of the heroic Bayard ; and, while Verraz- 
zano was writing his narrative at Dieppe, the traitor 
Bourbon was invading Provence. Preparation, too, 
was soon on foot for the expedition which, a few 
months later, ended in the captivity of Francis on the 
field of Pavia. Without a king, without an army, 
without money, convulsed within, threatened from with- 
out, France, after that humiliation, was in no condition 
to renew her Transatlantic enterprise. 

Henceforth the fortunes of Verrazzano are lost from 
view. Ramusio affirms, that, on another voyage, he 
was killed and eaten by savages, in sight of his follow- 
ers ; ^ and there is some color for the conjecture that 
this voyage, if made at all, was made in the service of 
Henry the Eighth of England.^ Again, a Spanish 
writer affirms that he was hanged at Puerto del Pico as 
a pirate.^ On the other hand, from expressions of a 
contemporary Italian writer, there is reason to think that 
he was living at Rome in 1587.* 

The fickle-minded King, always ftrdent at the outset 

1 Ramusio, III. 417; Wytfleit, 185. Compare Le Clero, Etablissement 
de la Foy, I. 6. 

2 Memoir of Cabot, 275. 

^ Barcia, Ensayo Cronolngico, 8. 

* Annibal Caro, I. 6, (M.ilano, 1807). The allusion in question is prob- 
ably to Verrazzano's brother. In the Propaganda at Rome is a map 
made in 1529 bj this brotlier, and inscribed Hieronynms de Vcmzzuno 
faciehat. On it are these words, " Verazzana, sive nova Gallia, quale 
discopri, 5 anni ia, Giovanni da Verazzano, Eiorentiuo." This answers 
the recent doubts as to the reality of his voyage. * 



1634.1 JACQUES CAETIER. 13| 

of ail enterprise, and always flagging" before its close, 
divided, moreover, between the smiles of his mistresses 
and the assaults of his enemies, might probably have 
dismissed the New World from his thoughts. But 
among the ftivorites of his youth was a high-spirited 
young noble, Philippe de Brion - Chabot, the partner 
of his joustings and tennis-playing, his gaming and 
gallantries.^ He still stood high in the royal favor, 
and, after the treacherous escape of Francis from cap- 
tivity, held the office of Admiral of France. When 
the kingdom had rallied in some measure from its 
calamities, he conceived the purpose of following up 
the path which Verrazzano had opened. 

The ancient town of St. Malo, thrust out like a but- 
tress into the sea, strange and grim of aspect, breathing 
war from its wall and battlements of ragged stone, — 
a stronghold of privateers, the home of a race whose 
intractable and defiant independence neither time nor 
change has subdued, — has been for centuries a nurs- 
ery of hardy mariners. Among the earliest and most 
eminent on its list stands the name of Jacques Cartier. 
St. Malo still preserves his portrait, — bold, keen feat- 
ures, bespeaking a spirit not apt to quail before the 
wrath of man or of the elements. In him Chabot 
found a fit agent of his design, if, indeed, its sug-ges- 
tion is not due to the Breton navigator.^ 

Sailing from St. Malo on the twentieth of April, I534<, 

1 Brantome, II. 277 ; Biograpliie Universelle, Art. Chabot. 

2 Cartier was at this time forty years of age, having been bom in 
December, 1494. 

16 



lyg EAELY TRENCH ADVENTURE. [1534. 

Cartier steered for Newfoundland, passed through the 
Straits of Belle Isle, crossed to the main, entered the 
Gulf of Chaleurs, planted a cross at Gaspe, and, never 
doubting- that he was on the high road to Cathay, 
advanced up the St. Lawrence till he saw the shores 
of Anticosti. But autumnal storms were gathering. 
The voyagers took counsel together, turned their 
prows eastward, and bore away for France, carrying 
thither, as a sample of the natural products of the New 
World, two young Indians, lured into their clutches by 
an act of viilanous treachery. The voyage was a mere 
reconnaissance.-^ 

The spirit of discovery was awakened. A passage 
to India could be found, and a new France built up 
beyond the Atlantic. Mingled with such views of in- 
terest and ambition was another motive scarcely less 
potent.^ The heresy of Luther was convulsing Ger- 
many, and the deeper heresy of Calvin infecting 
France. Devout Catholics, kindling with redoubled 
zeal, would fain requite the Church for her losses in 
the Old World by winning to her fold the infidels of 
the New. But, in pursuing an end at once so pious 
and so politic, Francis the First was setting at nought 
the supreme Pontiff" himself, since, by the preposterous 
bull of Alexander the Sixth, all America had been 
given to the Spaniards. 

1 Loscarbot, I. 232, (1612) ; Cartier, Discours du Vinjarje, reprinted by 
the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec. Compare translations 
in Ilakluyt and Ramusio ; MS. Map of Cartier's route in Dep6t des Carles, 
Carton V. 

* Lettre de Cartier au Roy tres Chretien. 



1535. SECOND VOYAGE OF CAETIER. 135 

Cartier was commissioned afresh. Three vessels, 
the largest not above a hundred and twenty tons, were 
placed at his disposal, and Claude de Pontbriand, 
Charles de la Pommeraye, and other gentlemen of 
birth enrolled themselves for the voyage. On the six- 
teenth of May, 1535, officers and sailors assembled in 
the Cathedral of St. Malo, where, after confession and 
hearing mass, they received the parting blessing of the 
bishoj). Three days later they set sail. The dingy walls 
of the rude old seaport, and the white rocks that line 
the neighboring shores of Brittany, faded from their 
sight, and soon they were tossing in a furious tempest. 
But the scattered ships escaped the danger, and, reunit- 
ing at the Straits of Belle Isle, steered westward along 
the coast of Labrador, till they reached a small bay op- 
posite the Island of Anticosti. Cartier called it the 
Bay of St. Lawrence, a name afterwards extended to 
the entire gulf, and to the great river above.^ 

1 Cartier calls the St. Lawrence the " River of Hochelaga," or " the 
great river of Canada." He confines the name of Canada to a district 
extending from the Isle des Coudres in the St. Lawrence to a point at 
some distance above .the site of Quebec. The country below, he adds, 
was called by the Indians Sar/nenai/, and that above, Hochelw/a. Les- 
carbot, a later writer, insists that the country on both sides of the St. 
Lawrence, from Hochelaga to its mouth, bore the name of Canada. 

In the second map of Ortelius, published about the year 1572, New 
France, Nova Francia, is thus divided: — Canada, a district on the St. 
Lawrence above the River Saguenay ; ChUaga, (Hochelaga,) the angle 
between the Ottawa and the St. Lawrence ; Saguenai, a district bcdovi 
the river of that name ; Moscosa, south of the St. Lawrence and east of 
the River Richelieu; Aracal, west and south of Moscosa; Norundiega, 
Maiiio and New Brunswick ; A/ialarhen, Virginia, Pennsylvania, etc. ; 
Terra Corterea/is, Labrador ; Florida, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida. 

In one of the earliest maps, New France comprises both North and 
South America. So also in the Speculum Orbis Terrarum of Corne- 



]84, EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [J535. 

To ascend this great river, to tempt the hazards of 
its intricate navigation, with no hetter pilots than the 
two young Indians kidnapped the year before, was a 
venture of no light risk. But skill or fortune pre- 
vailed; and, on 'the first of September, the voyagers 
reached in safety the gorge of the gloomy Saguenay, 
with its towering cliffs and sullen depth of waters. 
Passing the Isle des Coudres, and the lofty promon- 
tory of Cape Tourmente, they came to anchor in a 
quiet channel between the northern shore and the mar- 
gin of a richly wooded island, where the trees were so 
thickly hung with grapes that Cartler named it the 
Island of Bacchus.^ 

Indians came swarming from the shores, paddled 
their birch canoes about the ships, and clambered to the 
decks to gaze in bewilderment at the novel scene, and 
listen to the story of their travelled countrymen, mar- 
vellous in their ears as a visit to another planet.^ Car- 

lius, 1593. The application of tliis name dates back to a period imme- 
diately after tlie voyage of Verrazzano, and tlie Dutch geographers are 
especially free in their use of it, out of spite to the Spaniards. 

The derivation of the name of Canada has been a point of discussion. 
It is, without doubt, not Spanish, but Indian. In the vocabulary of the 
language of Ilochelaga, appended to the journal of C'artier's second voy- 
age, Canada is set down as tlie word for a town or village. " lis appel- 
lent line ville, Canada." It bears the same meaning in the Mohawk 
tongue. Both languages are dialects of the Iroquois. Lescarbot af- 
firms that Canada is simply an Indian proper name, of which it is vain 
to seek a meaning. Belleforest also calls it an Indian word, but trans- 
lates it " Terre," as does also Thevet. 

1 Now the Island of Orleans. 

2 Doubt has been thrown on this part of Cartier's narrative, on the 
ground that these two young Indians, who were captured at Gaspe', could 
not have been sointimately acquainted, as the journal represents, with the 
savages at the site of Quebec. From a subsequent part of the journal. 



x535.] CAETIEE AT QUEBEC. 185 

tier received tliem kindly, listened to the long harangue 
of the great chief Donnacona, regaled him with hread 
and wine ; and, when relieved at length of his guests, 
set forth in a hoat to explore the river above. 

As he drew near the ojjening of the channel, the 
Hocljelaga again spread before him the broad expanse 
of its waters. A mighty promontory, rugged and 
bare, thrust its scarped front into the surging cur- 
rent. Here, clothed in the majesty of solitude, breath- 
ing the stern poetry of the wilderness, rose the cliffs 
now rich with heroic memories, where the fiery Count 
Frontenac cast defiance at his foes, where Wolfe, 
Montcalm, and Montgomery fell. As yet, all was a 
nameless barbarism, and a cluster of wigwams held 
the site of the rock-built city of Quebec.^ Its name 
was Stadacone, and it owned the sway of the royal 
Donnacona. 

Cartier set forth to visit this greasy potentate, as- 
cended the River St. Charles, by him called the St. 
Croix,^ landed, crossed the meadows, climbed the rocks, 

however, it appears tliat they were natives of this place, — ■ " et la est la 
ville et demeurance du Seigneur Donnacona, et de nos deux homines 
qu'avions -pris le premier voyage." This is curiously confirmed by 
Thevet, who personally knew Cartier, and who, in his SiiKjulurites de la 
France Aiilarctiq-ie, (p. 147,) says that the party to which the two Indians 
captured at Gaspe belonged, spoke a language different from that of the 
other Indians seen in those parts, and that they had come on a war-ex- 
pedition from the River Ciielogna (Hochelaga). Compare New Found 
Workle, (London, 1568,) 124. This will also account for Lescarbot's re- 
mark, that tlie Indians of Gaspe liad changed their language since Car- 
tier's time. The language of Stadacone, or Quebec, when Cartier visited 
it, was appai'ently a dialect of the Iroquois. 

^ On ground now covered by tiie suburbs of St. Eoque and St. John. 

2 Charlevoix denies that tlie St. Croix and the St. Charles are the 
lU* 



186 EAELY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1385. 

threaded the forest, and emerged upon a squalid hauilet 
of bark cabins. When, their curiosity satisfied, he and 
his party were rowing for the ships, a friendly interrup- 
tion met them at the mouth of the St. Charles. An old 
chief haranoued them from the bank, men, boys, and 
children screeched welcome from the meadow, and a 
troop of hilarious squaws danced knee-deep in the wa- 
ter. The gift of a few strings of beads completed their 
delight and redoubled their agility ; and, from the dis- 
tance of a mile, their shrill songs of jubilation still 
reached the ears of the receding Frenchmen. - 

The hamlet of Stadacone, with its king, Donnacona, 
and its naked lords and princes, was not the metropolis 
of this forest State, since a town far greater — so the In- 
dians averred — stood by the brink of the river, many 
days' journey above. It was called Hochelaga, and 
the great river itself, with a wide reach of adjacent 
country, had borrowed its name. Thither, with his 
two young Indians as guides, Cartier resolved to go ; 
but misgivings seized the guides, as the time drew near, 
while Donnacona and his tribesmen, jealous of the plan, 
set themselves to thwart it. The Breton captain 
turned a deaf ear to their dissuasions ; whereat, failing 
to touch his reason, they appealed to his fears. 

same ; but he supports liis denial by an argument which proves nothing 
but iiis own gross carelessness. Cliamplain, than wliom no one was bet- 
ter qualified to form an opinion, distinctly affirms tlie identity of tlie two 
rivers. See his Map of Quebec, and the accompanying key, in the edi- 
tion of 1613. Potiierie is of the same opinion ; as also, among modern 
writers, Faribault and Fisher. In truth, the description of localities in 
Cartier's journal cannot, when closely examined, admit a doubt on the 
subject. See also Bertlielot, Dissertation sur le Canon de Bronze. 



1635.] CARTIER AT QUEBEC. \<fff 

One morning, as the ships still lay at anchor, the 
French beheld three Indian devils descending in a canoe 
towards them, dressed in black and white dog-skins, 
with faces black as ink, and horns long as a man's arm. 
Thus arrayed, they drifted by, while the principal 
fiend, with fixed eyes* as of one piercing the secrets of 
futurity, littered in a loud voice a long harangue. Then 
they paddled for the shore ; and no sooner did they 
reach it, than each fell flat like a dead man in the bot- 
tom of the canoe. Aid, however, was at hand ; for 
Donnacona and his tribesmen, rushing pell-mell from 
the adjacent woods, raised the swooning masqueraders, 
and, with shrill clamors, bore them in their arms with- 
in the sheltering thickets. Here, for a full half-hour, the 
French could hear them haranguing- in solemn conclave. 
Then the two young Indians issued forth, enacting a 
pantomime of amazement and terror, clasping their 
hands, and calling on Christ and the Virgin ; where- 
upon Cartier, shouting from the vessel, asked what was 
the matter. They replied, that tlie god Coudouagny 
had sent to warn the French against all attempts to 
ascend the great river, since, should they persist, snows, 
tempests, and drifting ice would requite their rashness 
with inevitable ruin. The French replied that Coudou- 
agny was a fool ; that he could not hurt those who be- 
lieved in Christ ; and that they might tell this to his 
three messengers. The assembled Indians, with little 
reverence for their deity, pretended great contentment 
at this assurance, and danced for joy along the beach.^ 

1 M. Berthelot, in his Dissertation sur le Canon de Bronze, discovers in 



188 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1535. 

Cartier now made ready to depart. And first, he 
caused the two larger vessels to he towed for safe har- 
borage within the mouth of the St. Charles. With 
the smallest, a galleon of forty tons, and two open 
boats, carrying in all fifty sailors, besides Pontbriand, 
La Pommeraye, and other gentlemen, he set forth for 
Ilochelaga. 

Sluwly gliding on their way, by "walls of verdure, 
brightened in the autumnal sun, they saw forests fes- 
tooned with grape - vines, and waters alive with wild- 
fowl ; they heard the song of the blackbird, the thrush, 
and, as they fondly thought, the nightingale. The 
galleon grounded ; -they left her, and, advancing v.ith 
the boats alone, on the second of October neared the 
goal of their hopes, the mysterious Hochelaga. 

Where now are seen the quays and storehouses of 
Montreal, a thousand Indians thronged the shore, wild 
with delight, dancing, singing, crowding about the 
strangers, and showering into the boats their gifts of 
fish and maize ; and, as it grew dark, fires lighted up 
the night, while, far and near, the French could see 
the excited savages leaping and rejoicing by the blaze. 

At dawn of day, marshalled and accoutred, they set 
forth for Hochelaga. An Indian path led them through 
the forest which covered the site of Montreal. The 
morning air was chill and sharp, the leaves were chang- 
ing hue, and beneath the oaks the ground was thickly 

this Intlian pantomime a typical representation of the supposed ship- 
wreck of Verrazzano in the St. Lawrence. Tliis shipwreck, it is need- 
less to say, is a mere imagination of this ingenious writer. 



1535.1 HOCHELAGA, IgQ 

strewn Avith acorns. They soon met an Indian chief 
with a party of tribesmen, or, as tlie old narrative has 
it, " one of the principal lords of the. said city," at- 
tended with a numerous retinue.-' Greeting them after 
the concise courtesy of the forest, he led them to a fire 
kindled by the side of the path for their comfort and 
refreshment, seated them on the earth, and made them 
a long harangue, receiving in requital of his eloquence 
two hatchets, two knives, and a crucifix, the last of 
which he was invited to kiss. This done, they re- 
sumed their march, and presently issued forth upon 
open fields, covered far and near with the ripened 
maize, its leaves rustling, its yellow grains gleaming 
between the parting husks. Before them, wrapped in 
• forests painted by the early frosts, rose the ridgy back 
of the Mountain of Montreal, and below, encompassed 
with its cornfields, lay the Indian town. Nothing was 
visible but its encircling palisades. They were of 
trunks of trees, set in a triple row. The outer and 
inner ranges inclined till they met and crossed near the 
summit, while the upright row between them, aided 
by transverse braces, gave to the whole an abundant 
strength. Within were galleries for the defenders, 
rude ladders to mount them, and magazines of stones 
to throw down on the heads of assailants. It was a 
mode of fortification practised by all the tribes speaking 
dialects of the Iroquois.^ 

1 "... . I'un des principaulx seigneurs de la dicte ville, accompaigne 
de plusieurs personnes." — Cartier, 23, (1545). 

2 That the Indians of Iloclielaga belonged to the Huron-Iroquois 
family of tribes is evident from the affinities of their language, (compare 



190 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1535. 

The voyagers entered the narrow portal. Within, 
they saw some fifty of those large ohlong dwellings so 
familiar in after-years to the eyes of the Jesuit apostles 

Gallatin, Sj/iwpsis of Indian Tribes,) and from the construction of tlieir 
houses and defensive M'orks. The latter was identical with the construs- 
tion universal, or nearly so, among the Huron-Iroquois tribes, but not piao- 
tised hy any of tlie very numerous tribes of Ali;onquin lineage. In Ramu- 
sio, HI. 446, there is a plan of Hochelaga and its defences, which, tbough 
by no means without tlie glaring errors from which, at tbe time, such 
engravings were seldom free, adds much to tlie value of the descrip- 
tion. Whence the sketch was derived does not appear, as the original 
edition of Cartier does not contain it. In 1860, a quantity of Indian 
remains were dug up at Montreal, immediately below Sherbrooke Street, 
between Mansfield and Metcalfe Streets. (See a paper by Dr. Dawson, in 
Canadian Natui-alist and Geologist, V. 430.) They raa3' perhaps indicate 
the site of Hochelaga. A few, which have a distinctive character, belong 
not to the Algonquin, but to the Huron-Iroquois type. The stemless 
pipe of terra-cotta is the exact counterpart of those found in the great 
Huron deposits of the dead in Canada West and in Iroquois burial-places 
of Western New York. So also of the fragments of pottery and the in 
struments of bone used in ornamenting it. 

The assertion of certain Algonquins, who, in 1642, told the missiona- 
ries that their ancestors once lived at Montreal, is far from conclusive 
evidence. It may have referred to an occupancj'' subsequent to Car- 
tier's visit, or, which is more probable, the Indians, after their favor- 
ite practice, maj' have amused themselves with " hoaxing " their inter- 
locutors. 

Cartier calls his vocabulary, " Le latigage des pai/s et Royaulmes de Hoche- 
laga et Canada, aultrement appellee par nous la nouuelle France," (ed. 1545). For 
this and other reasons it is more than probable that the Indians of Quebec 
or Stadacone were also of the Huron-Iroquois race, since by Canada lie 
means the country about Quebec. Seventy years later, the whole re- 
gion was occupied by Algonquins, and no trace remained of Hochelaga 
or Stadacone. 

There was a tradition among the Agnies (Mohawks), one of the five 
tribes of the Iroquois, that their ancestors were once settled at Quebec; 
see Lafitau, I. 101. Canada, as already mentioned, is a Mohawk word. 
The tradition recorded by Colden, in his llisiory of the Five Nations (Iro- 
quois), that they were formerly settled near Montreal, is of interest here. 
The tradition declares, that they were driven thence by the Adirondacks 
(Algonquins). 





1535.] HOCHELAGA. igj 

in Iroquois and Huron forests. They were fifty yards 
or more in length, and twelve or fifteen wide, framed 
of sapling jjoles closely covered with sheets of bark, 
and each containing many fires and many families. In 
the midst of the town was an open area, or public 
square, a stone's - throw in width. Here Cartier and 
his followers stopped, while the surrounding houses of 
bark disgorged their inmates, — swarms of children, 
and young women and old, their infants in their arms. 
They crowded about the visitors, crying for delight, 
touching their beards, feeling their faces, and holding 
up the screeching infants to be touched in turn. Strange 
in hue, strange in attire, with moustached lip and bearded 
chin, with arquebuse and glittering halberd, helmet, and 
cuirass, — were the marvellous strangers demigods or 
men % 

Due time allowed for this exuberance of feminine 
rapture, the warriors interposed, banished the women 
and children to a distance, and squatted on the ground 
around the French, row within row of swarthy forms 
and eager faces, " as if," says Cartier, " we were 
going to act a play."-^ Then appeared a troop of 
women, each bringing a mat, with which thev car- 
peted the bare earth for the behoof of their guests. 
The latter being seated, the chief of the nation was 
iDorne before them on a deer - skin by a number of 
his tribesmen, a bedridden old savage, paralyzed and 
helpless, squalid as the rest in his attire, and distin 

*".... corame sy eussions voulu iouer vng mystere." — Cartier, 26, 
(1515). 



IQg EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1535. 

guished only by a red fillet, inwrought with the dyed 
quills of the Canada porcupine, encircling his lank, 
black hair. They placed him on the ground at Car- 
tier's feet and made signs of welcome for him, while he 
pointed feebly to his powerless limbs, and implored 
the healins" touch from the hand of the French chief. 
Cartier complied, and received in acknowledgment the 
red fillet of his grateful patient. And now from sur- 
rounding dwellings appeared a woful throng, the sick, 
the lame, the blind, the maimed, the decrepit, brought 
or led forth and placed on the earth before the perplexed 
commander, " as if," he says, " a God had come down 
to cure them." His skill in medicine being far behind 
the emergency, he pronounced over his petitioners a 
portion of the Gospel of St. John, of infallible efficacy 
on such occasions, made the sign of the cross, and ut- 
tered a prayer, not for their bodies only, but for their 
miserable souls. Next he read the passion of the Sav- 
iour, to which, though comprehending not a word, his 
audience listened with grave attention. Then came a 
distribution of presents. The squaws and children were 
recalled, and, with the warriors, placed in separate 
groups. Knives and hatchets were given to the men, 
beads to the women, and pewter rings and images of the 
Agnus Dei flung ambng the troop of children, whence 
ensued a vigorous scramble in the square of Hochelaga. 
Now the French trumpeters pressed their trumpets to 
their lips, and blew a blast that filled the air with war- 
like din and the hearts of the hearers with amazement 
and delight. Bidding their hosts farewell, the visitors 



1535] nOCHELAGA. igg 

fornied tlieir ranks and defiled through the gate once 
more, despite tlie efforts of a crowd of women, who, 
with clamorous hospitality, beset them with gifts of fish, 
beans, corn, and other viands of strangely uninviting 
aspect, which the Frenchmen courteously declined. 

A troop of Indians followed, and guided them to the 
top of the neighboring mountain. Cartier called it 
Mont Royal, Montreal ; and hence the name of th(» 
busy city which now holds the site of the vanished 
Hochelaga. Stadacone and Hochelaga, Quebec and 
Montreal, in the sixteenth centurv as in the nineteenth, 
were the centres of Canadian population. 

From the summit, that noble prospect met his eye 
which at this day is the delight of tourists, but strangely 
changed, since, first of white men, the Breton voyager 
gazed upon it. Tower and dome and spire, congre- 
gated roofs, white sail and gliding steamer, animate its 
vast expanse with varied life. Cartier saw a different 
scene. East, west, and south, the mantling forest was 
over all, and the broad blue ribbon of the great river 
glistened amid a realm of verdure. Beyond, to the 
bounds of Mexico, stretched a leafy desert, and the vast 
hive of industry, the mighty battle-ground of later 
. centuries, lay sunk in savage torpor, wrapped in illim- 
itable woods. 

The French reembarked, bade farewell to Hochelaga, 
retraced their lonely course down the St. Lawrence, 
and reached Stadacone in safety. On the bank of the 
St.' Charles, their companions had built in their absence 
a fort of palisades, and the ships, hauled up the little 

17 



lf)4« EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [InSn 

Stream, lay moored before it.^ Here the self- exiled 
company were soon besieg-ed by the rigors of the Cana- 
dian winter. The rocks, the shores, the pine-trees, the 
solid floor of the frozen river, all alike were blanketed in 
snow, beneath the keen cold rays of the dazzling sun. 
The drifts rose above the sides of their ships; masts, 
spars, cordage, were thick with glittering incrustations 
and sparkling rows of icicles ; a frosty armor, four 
inches thick, encased the bulwarks. Yet, in the bitter- 
est weather, the neighboring Indians, " hardy," says the 
journal, " as so many beasts/' came daily to the fort, 
wading, half naked, waist-deep through the snow. At 
length, their friendship began to abate; their visits grew 
less frequent, and, during December, had wholly ceased, 
when an appalhng calamity fell upon the French. 

A malignant scurvy broke out among them. Man 
after man went down before the hideous disease, till 
twenty-five were dead, and only three or four were left 
in health. The sound were too few to attend the sick, 
and the wretched sufferers lay in helpless despair, 
dreaming of the sun and the vines of France. The 
ground, hard as flint, defied their feeble efforts, and, 
unable to bury their dead, they hid them in snow-drifts. 
Cartier appealed to the Saints ; but they turned a deaf 
ear. Then he nailed against a tree an imaije of the 
Virgin, and on a Sunday summoned forth his woe- 

^ In 1608, Champlain found the remains of Carder's fort. See.Chain- 
pluin, (1013,) 184-191. Charlevoix is clearly wrong as to the locality. 
M. Faribault, who has collected the evidence, (see Voyages de Decouvertc 
mi Canada, 109-119,) thinks the foi't was near the junction of the little 
Elver Lairet with the St. Charles. 



1536.! WINTER MISERIES.- MARVELLOUS CURES. 195 

begoiie followers, who, haggard, reeling, bloated with 
their maladies, moved in procession to the spot, and, 
kneeling- in the snow, sang litanies and psalms .of 
David. That day died Philippe Rougemont, of Am- 
boise, aged twenty-two years. The Holy Virgin deigned 
no other response. 

There was fear that the Indians, learning their mis- 
ery, might finish the work the scurvy had begun. None 
of them, therefore, was allow^ed to approach the fort ; 
and when, perchance, a party of savages lingered within 
hearing, Cartier forced his invalid garrison to beat with 
sticks and stones against the walls, that their dangerous 
neighbors, deluded by the clatter, might think them 
vigorously engaged in hard labor. These objects of 
their fear proved, however, the instruments of their 
salvation. Cartier, walking one day near the river, 
met an Indian, who not long before had been prostrate 
like many of his fellows with the scurvy, but who 
now, to all appearance, was in high health and spirits. 
What agency had wrought this marvellous recovery "? 
According to the Indian, it was a certain evergreen, 
called by him ameda^ of which a decoction of the 
leaves was sovereign against the disease. The experi- 
ment was tried. The sick men drank copiously of the 
healing draught, — so copiously indeed that in six days 
they drank a tree as large as a French oak. Thus 
vigorously assailed, the distemper relaxed its hold, and 
health and hope began to revisit the hapless company. 

1 " Ameda," in the edition of 1545; '^'annedda," in Lescarbot, Ternaux- 
Compans, and Faribault. The wonderful tree seems to have been a 
spruce. 



igg EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1536. 

When this winter of misery had worn away, when 
spring appeared, and the ships were thawed from their, 
icy fetters, Cartier prepared to return. He had made 
notable discoveries, but these were as nothing to the 
tales of wonder that had reached his ear, — of a land 
of gold and rubies, of a nation white like the French, 
of men who lived without food, and of others to whom 
Nature had granted but one leg. Should he stake his 
credit on these marvels 1 Far better that they who 
had recounted them to him should, with their own 
lips, recount them also to the King. To this end, he 
resolved that Donnacona and his chiefs should go with 
him to court. He lured them therefore to the fort, and 
led them into an ambuscade of sailors, who, seizing the 
astonished guests, hurried them on board the ships. This 
treachery accomplished, the voyagers proceeded to plant 
the emblem of Christianity. The cross was raised, 
the fleur-de-lis hung upon it, and, spreading their 
sails, they steered for home. It was the sixteenth of 
July, 1536, when Cartier again cast anchor under the 
walls of St. Malo.i 

A rigorous climate, a savage people, a fatal disease, 
a soil barren of gold, — these were the allurements of 
New France. Nor were the times auspicious for a 
renewal of the enterprise. Charles the Fifth, flusiied 

1 Of the original edition of the narrative of this voyage, that of 1545, 
only one copy is known, — that in the British Museum. It is styled 
Brief Reck, Sf succinate nmration, de la nauifjation faicte es i/sles de Canada, 
Hochelage Sf Saguenai/ Sf aiitres, aiiec parliculieres mews, langaige, Sf ceremonies 
des hahitans d'icelles ; fort delectable a veoir. As n-yay be gatliered from the 
Title, tlie style and orthography are those of the days of Rabelais. It 
lias been reprinted (1863) with valuable notes by M. d'Avezac. 



•541.] ROBERVAL. jm 

with his African triumphs, challenged the Most Chris- 
tian Kino- to single conihat. The war flamed forth with 
renewed fury, and ten years elapsed before a hollow 
truce varnished the hate of the royal rivals with a 
thin pretence of courtesy. Peace returned ; but Fran- 
cis, under the scourge of his favorite goddess, was 
sinking to his ignominious grave, and Chabot, patron 
of the former voyages, was in disgrace.-^ 

Meanwhile, the ominous adventure of New France 
had found a champion in the person of Jean Franyois 
de la Roque, Sieur de Roberval, a nobleman of Picardy. 
Tliough a man of high account in his own province, 
his past honors paled before the splendor of the titles 
said to have been now conferred on him, — Lord of 
Norembega, Viceroy and Lieutenant - General in Can- 
ada, .Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Belle Isle, 
Carpunt, Labrador,^ the Great Bay, and Baccalaos. To 

1 Brantome, II. 283 ; Anquetil, V. 397 ; Sismondi, XVII. 62. 

2 Labrador — Lahoratoris Ti-rra — is so called from the circumstance 
that Cortereal in the year 1500 stole thence a cargo of Indians for slaves. 
Belle Isle and Carpunt, — the strait and islands between Labrador and 
Newfoundland. The Great Bay, — the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Norem- 
bega, or Norumbega, more properly called Arambec, (Hakluyt, III. 167, / 
was, in Kamusio's map, the country embraced within Nova Scotia, south- 
ern New Brunswick, and a part of Maine. De Laet confines it to a dis- 
trict about the mouth of the Penobscot. Wytfleit and other early writers 
say that it had a capital city, of the same name; and in several old 
maps, this fabulous metropolis is laid down, with towers and churches, 
on the River Penobscot. The word is of Indian origin. 

Before me is the commission of Roberval, "Lettres Patentcs accordees a 
Jehan Francoys de la Roqiie S? de. Rob(rcal," copied from' the French ar- 
chives. Here he is simply styled, " iiotre Lieuteiiant-General, Chef Ducteur 
et Ca/ijiituine d^ la d. eiifreprinse." The patent is in Lescarbot (1618). In 
tlie Archives de la Bibliotheque puhlique de Rouen, an edict is preserved 
iiuthorizing Roberval to raise " une armee do volontaires avec victuailles, 
Artillerie, etc. pour aller au pays de Canada." 

17* 



198 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1541. 

this windy gift of ink and parchment was added a sohd 
grant from the royal treasury with which five vessels 
were procured and equipped, and to Cartier was given 
the post of Captain - General. His commission sets 
forth the objects of the enterprise, — discovery, settle- 
ment, and the conversion of the Indians, who are de- 
scribed as " men without knowledge of God or use of 
reason," — a pious design held, doubtless, in full sincer- 
ity by the royal profligate, now, in his decline, a fervent 
champion of the Faith and a strenuous tormentor of 
heretics. The machinery of conversion was of a char- 
acter somewhat questionable, since Cartier was empow- 
ered to ransack the prisons for thieves, robbers, and 
other malefactors, to complete his crews and strengthen 
his colony.^ Of the expected profits of the voyage the 
adventurers were to have one third and the King an- 
other, while the remainder was to be reserved towards 
defraying expenses. 

With respect to Donnacona and his tribesmen, basely 
kidnapped at Stadacone, excellent care had been taken 
of their souls. In due time they had been baptized, 
and soon reaped the benefit of the rite, since they all 
died within a year or two, to the great detriment, as it 
proved, of the expedition.^ 

1 See the Commission, Lescarbot, I. 411, (1612) ; Hazard, I. 19. 

2 M. Charles Cunat a M. L. Ilovins, Maire de St. Malo, MS. Tliis is 
a report of researches made by M. Cunat in 1844 in the archives of St. 
Malo. 

Extrait Baptistaire des Sauvages amenes en France par honneste horn me Jacques 
Cartier, MS. 

Thevet says that he knew Donnacona in France, and found him " a 
good Christian." 



1541.] SPANISH JEAI^OUSY. I99 

Meanwhile, from beyond the Pyrenees, the Most 
Catholic King, with alarmed and jealous eye, watched 
the preparations of his Most Christian enemy. Amer- 
ica, in his eyes, was one vast province of Spain, to be 
vigilantly guarded against the intruding foreigner. To 
what end were men mustered, and ships fitted out in the 
Breton seaports '? Was it for colonization, and, if so, 
where'? In Southern Florida, or on the frozen shores 
of Baccalaos, of which Breton cod-fishers claimed the 
discovery 1 Or would the French build forts on the 
Bahamas, whence they could waylay the gold shi})s in 
the Bahama Channel 1 Or was the expedition destined 
against the Spanish settlements of the islands or the 
Main 1 Reinforcements were despatched in haste ; a 
spy was sent to France, who, passing from port to port, 
Quimper, St. Malo, Brest, Morlaix, came back freighted 
with strangely exaggerated tales of mighty preparation. 
The Council of the Indies was called. " The French are 
bound for Baccalaos," — such was the substance of 
their report ; — " your Majesty will do well to send two 
caravels to watch their movements, and a force to take 
possession of the said country. And since there is no 
other money to pay for it, the gold from Peru, now at 
Panama, might be used to that end." The Cardinal 
of Seville thought lightly of the danger, and prophe- 
sied that the French would reap nothing from their 
enterprise but disappointment and loss. The King of 
Portugal, sole acknowledged partner with Spain in the 
ownership of the New World, was invited by the 
Spanish ambassador to take part in an expedition 



200 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1541. 

against the encroadiing Fiench. " They can do no 
harm at Baccalaos," was the cold reply; "and so," ad,ds 
tlie indignant ambassador, " the King would say if they 
should come and take him here at Lisbon ; such is the 
softness they show here on the one hand, while, on the 
ether, they wish to give law to the whole world." ^ 

The five ships, occasions of this turmoil and alarm, 
had lain at St. Malo awaiting certain cannon and muni- 
tions from Normandy and Champagne. They waited 
in vain, and as the King's orders were stringent against 
delay, it was resolved that Cartier should sail at once, 
leaving Roberval to follow with additional ships when 
the needful supplies arrived. 

On the twenty-third of May, 15il,^ the Breton cap- 
tain again spread his canvas for New France. The 
Atlantic was safely passed, the fog-banks of Newfound- 
land, the island rocks clouded with screaming sea-fowl, 
the forests breathing piny odors from the shore. Again 
he passed in review the grand scenery of the St. Law- 
rence, and again cast anchor beneath the cliffs of Que- 
bec. Canoes came out from shore filled with feathered 
savages inquiring for their kidnapped chiefs. " Don- 
nacona," replied Cartier, "is dead;" but he added the 
politic falsehood that the others had married in France 
and lived in state, like great lords. The Ljdians pre- 
tended to be satisfied; but it was soon apparent that 
they looked askance on the perfidious strangers. 

1 See the documents on this subject in the Coleccion de Varios Docu- 
vr.entos of Buckingliani Smith, I. 107-112. 

2 Haliluyt's date, 1540, is incorrect 



1541.] CARTIER AT CAP ROUGE. t^Qj 

Cartier pursued his course, sailed three leagues and 
a half up the St. Lawrence, and anchored again off 
the mouth of the River of Cap Rouge. It was late in 
iVugust, and the leafy landscape sweltered in the sun. 
They landed, picked up quartz crystals on the shore 
and thought them diamonds, climbed the steep promon- 
tory, drank at the spring near the top, looked abroad 
on the wooded slopes beyond the little river, waded 
through the tall grass of the meadow, found a quarry 
of slate, and gathered scales of a yellow mineral which 
glistened like gold, then took to their boats, crossed to 
the south shore of the St. Lawrence, and, languid with 
the heat, rested in the shade of forests laced with an 
entanglement of grape-vines. 

Now their task began, and while some cleared off the 
woods and sowed turnip-seed, others cut a zigzag- road 
up the height, and others built two forts, one at the 
summit, one on the shore below. The forts finished, 
the Vicomte de Beaupre took command, while Cartier 
went with two boats to explore the rapids above Hoche- 
laga. When at length he returned, the autumn was 
far advanced; and with the gloom of a Canadian No- 
vember came distrust, foreboding, and homesickness. 
Roberval had not appeared ; the Lidians kept jealously 
aloof; the motley colony was sullen as the dull, raw air 
around it. There was disgust and ire at Charlesbourg- 
Royal, for so the place was callt^d.-*- 

^ The original narrative of this voyage is fragmentary, and exists only 
in the transhition of Ilakluyt. Purchas, Belknap, Forster, Chalmers, 
and the other secondary writers, all draw from this source. The narrative 



20Q EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. 11542. 

Meiuivvliile, unexpected delays had detained the impa- 
tient Roberval ; nor was it until the sixteenth of April, 
154<2, that, with three ships and two hundred colonists, 
he set sail from Rochelle. When, on the eioiith of 
June, he entered the harbor of St. John, he found 
seventeen fishing-vessels lying there at anchor. Soon 
after, he descried three other sail rounding the entrance 
of the haven, and, with wrath and amazement, recotj- 
nized the ships of Jacques Cartier. That voyager had 
broken up his colony and abandoned New France 
What motives had prompted a desertion little consonant 
with the resohite spirit of the man it is impossible to 
say, — whether sickness within, or Indian enemies with- 
out, disgust with an enterprise whose unripened fruits 
had proved so hard and bitter, or discontent at finding 
himself reduced to a post of subordination in a country 
which he had discovered and where he had conmianded. 
The Viceroy ordered him to return; but Cartier escaped 
with his vessels under cover of night, and made sail for 
France, carrying with him as trophies a few quartz dia- 
monds from Cap Rouge, and grains of sham gold from 
the neighboring slate ledges. Thus pitifully closed the 
active career of this notable explorer. His discoveries 
had gained for him a patent of nobility. He owned 
the seigniorial mansion of Limoilou,^ a rude structure 
of stone still standinof. Here, and in the neiohborina' 



published by the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec is the Enjj- 
lisli version of Hakluyt retranslated into French. 

^ Arcliices de St. Malo, MSS. Extracts were made for the writer by. 
Mr. Poore. See note at end of chapter. 



1542.] MARGUERITE. ^203 

town of St. Malo, where also he had a house, he seems 
to have Hved for many years. 

Roberval, abandoned, once more set sail, steering- 
northward to tlie Straits of Belle Isle and the dreaded 
Isle of Demons. And here an incident befell which tiie 
all-believing Thevet records in manifest good faith, and 
which, strij3ped of the adornments of superstition and 
a love of the marvellous, has without doubt a nucleus 
of truth. I give the tale as I find it. 

The Viceroy's company was of a mixed complexion. 
There were nobles, officers, soldiers, sailors, adventur- 
ers, with won:ien, too, and children. Of the women, 
some were of birth and station, and among them a 
damsel called Marguerite, a niece of Roberval himself. 
In the ship was a young gentleman who had embarked 
for love of her. His love was too well requited; and 
the stern Viceroy, scandalized and enraged at a passion 
which scorned concealment and set shame at defiance, 
cast anchor by the haunted island, landed his indiscreet 
relative, gave her four arquebuses for defence, and, with 
an old Norman nurse who had pandered to the lovers, 
left her to her fate. Her gallant threw himself into the 
surf, and by desperate effort gained the shore, with two 
more guns and a supply of amn.unition. The ship 
weighed anchor, receded, vanished ; they were left 
alone. Yet not so, for the demon-lords of the island 
beset them day and night, raging around their hut with 
a confused and hungry clamoring, striving to force the 
frail barrier. The lovers had repented of their sin, 
though not abandoned it, and Heaven was on their side. 



204* EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1512. 

The saints vouchsafed their aid, and the offended Vir- 
gin, relenting, held before them her protecting- shield. 
In tlie form of beasts or other shapes abominably and 
unutterably hideous, the brood of hell, howling in 
baffled fury, tore at the branches of tiie sylvan dwell- 
ing ; but a celestial hand was ever interposed, and there 
was a viewless barrier which they might not pass. Mar- 
guerite became pregnant. Here was a double prize, 
two souls in one, mother and child. The fiends grew 
frantic, but all in vain. Slie stood undaunted amid 
these horrors; but her lover, dismayed and heart-broken, 
sickened and died. Her child soon followed ; then the 
old Norman nurse found her unhallowed rest in that 
accursed soil, and Marguerite was left alone. Neither 
her reason nor her courage failed. When the demons 
assailed her, she shot at them with her gun, but they 
answered with hellish merriment, and thenceforth she 
placed her trust in Heaven alone. There were foes 
around her of the upper, no less than of the nether 
world. Of these, the bears were the most redoubtable, 
yet, being vulnerable to mortal weapons, she killed three 
of them, all, says the story, "as white as an egg." 

It was two years and five months from her landinof 
on the island, when, far out at sea, the crew of a small 
fishing- craft saw a column of smoke curling upward 
from the haunted shore. Was it a device of the fiends 
to lure them to their ruin 1 They thought so, and 
kept aloof. But misgiving seized them. They warily 
drew near, and descried a female figure in wild attire 
waving signals from the strand. Thus at length was 



1542.] EOBEllVAL AT CAP EOUGE. QQo 

Marguerite rescued and restored to her native France, 
where, a few years later, the cosmographer Thevet met 
her at Natron in Perigord, and heard the tale of won 
der from her own lips.^ 

Havino- left his offendinof niece to the devils and bears 
of the Isle of Demons, Roberval held his course up the 
St. Lawrence, and dropped anchor before the heights 
of Cap Rouge. His company landed ; there were 
bivouacs along the strand, a hubbub of pick and spade, 
axe, saw, and hammer ; and soon in the wilderness up- 
rose a goodly structure, half barrack, half castle, with 
two towers, two spacious halls, a kitchen, chambers, 
store-rooms, workshops, cellars, garrets, a well, an oven, 
and two water-mills. It stood on that bold acclivity 
where Cartier had before intrenched himself, the St. 
Lawrence in front, and, on the right, the River of Cap 
Rouge. Here all the colony housed under the same 
roof, like one of the experimental communities of recent 
days, — officers, soldiers, nobles, artisans, laborers, and 
convicts, with the women and children, in whom lay the 
future hope of New France. 

1 The story is taken from the curious MS. of 1586. Compare the 
Cbsmographle of Thevet, (1575,) 11. c. VI. Thevet was tlie personal 
friend botli of Cartier and of Roberval, the latter of whom he calls 
" mon familler," and the former " mon (/rand et singaJier ami/." He says 
that he lived five months with Cartier in his house at St. Malo. He was 
also a friend of Rabelais, who once, in Italy, rescued liim from a serious 
embarrassment. See the Notice Bioqra/ihique prefixed to the edition of 
Rabelais of Burgaud des Mai'ets and Ratliery. 

In the Routier of Jean Alphonse, Roborval's pilot, where the principal 
points of the voyage are set down, repeated mention is made of " les Isles 
de la Demoiselle," immediately nortli of Newfoundland. The inference 
is obvious that the demoiselle was Marguerite- 
18 



206 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE. [1542.' 

Experience and forecast luid alike been wanting. 
There were storehouses, but no stores ; mills, but no 
grist; an ample oven, and a woful dearth of bread. It 
was only when two of the shij)s had sailed for France 
that they took account of their provision and discovered 
its lamentable shortcoming. Winter and famine fol- 
lowed. They bought fish from the Indians, dug roots, 
and boiled them in whale-oil. Disease broke out, arid, 
before spring, killed one third of the colony. The rest 
would fain have quarrelled, mutinied, and otherwise 
aggravated their inevitable woes, but disorder was dan- 
gerous under the iron rule of the inexorable Roberval. 
Michel Gaillon was detected in a petty theft, and forth- 
with hanged. Jean de Nantes, for a more venial 
offence, was kept in irons. The quarrels of men, the 
scolding of women, were alike requited at the whip- 
ping-post, " by which means," quaintly says the narra- 
tive, '• they lived in peace." 

Thevet, while calling himself the intimate friend of 
the Viceroy, gives to his story a darker coloring. 
Forced to unceasing labor, and chafed by arbitrary 
rules, some of the soldiers fell under his displeasure, and 
six of them, formerly his favorites, were hanged in olie 
day. Others were banished to an island, and there held 
in fetters; while for various light offences, several, both 
men and women, were shot. Even the Indians were 
moved to pity, and wept at the sight of their woes.^ 

And here, midway, our guide deserts us ; the an- 
cient narrative is broken, and the latter part is lost, leav- 
1 Thevet MS. 1586. 



1542,] DEATH OF ROBERVAL. OQn 

ing US to divine as we may the future of the ill-starred 
colony. That it did not long- surviv^e is certain. It is 
said that the King, in great need of Roberval, sent 
Cartier to bring him home.^ It is said, too, that, in 
after-years, the Viceroy essayed to rejiossess himself 
of his Transatlantic domain, and lost his life in the at- 
tempt.^ Thevet, on the other hand, with ample means 
of learning the truth, affirms that Roberval was slain at 
night, near the Church of the Innocents, in the heart of 
Paris.3 

With him closes the prelude of the French-Amer- 
ican drama. Tempestuous years were in store for 
France, and a reign of blood and fire. The Religious 
Wars begot the hapless colony of Florida, but for 
more than half a century left New France a desert. 
Order rose at length out of the sanguinary chaos ; the 
zeal of discovery and the spirit of commercial enter- 
prise once more awoke, while, closely following, more 
potent than they, moved the black-robed forces of the 
Roman Catholic reaction. 

1 Lescarbot, (1612,) I. 416. 

2 Le Clerc, Etablissement de la Foy, 1. 14. 

Note. — The Manor House of Cartier. This curious relic, ■which m 
1865 was still entire, in the suburbs of St. Malo, was as rude in construc- 
tion as an ordinary farraliouse. It had only a kitchen and a Iiall below, 
and two rooms above. At the side was a small stable, and, opposite, a 
barn. These buildings, together with two heavy stone walls, enclosed 
a square court. Adjacent, was a garden and an orchard. The whole 
indicates a rough and simple way of life. See llame, Notesur le Manoir 
de Jacques Cartier. 



CHAPTER II. 

1542—1604. 
LA ROCHE. CHAMPLAIN. DE MONTS. 

Feknctt Fishekmen and Fur -Traders. — La Eoche. — The Convicts 
OF Sahle Island. — Tadoussac. — Samuel de Champlaix. — Visits 
THE West Indies and JIexicu. — Explores the St. Lawrence. — 
De MfiNTs. — His Acadian Schemes. 

Years rolled on. France, long- tossed among the 
surges of civil commotion, plunged at last into a gulf 
of fratricidal war. Blazing hamlets, sacked cities, 
fields steaming with slaughter, profaned altars, rav- 
ished maidens, a carnival of steel and fire, marked 
the track of the tornado. There was little room for 
schemes of foreign enterprise. Yet, far aloof from 
siege and battle, the fishermen of the western ports still 
plied their craft on the Banks of Newfoundland. Hu- 
manity, morality, decency, might be forgotten, but cod- 
fish must still be had for the use of the faithful on Lent 
and fast days. Still the wandering Esquimaux saw the 
Norman and Breton sails hovering around some lonely 
headland, or anchored in fleets in the harbor of St. 
John ; and still, through salt spray and driving mist, 
the fisherman dragged up the riches of the sea. 

In lo»78, there were a hundred and fifty French fish- 
ing-vessels at Newfoundland, besides two hundred of 
other nations, Spanish, Portuguese, and English. Added 



1586.] FRENCH FISHERMEN AND FUR-TRADERS. QQQ 

to these were twenty or thirty Biscayau whalers.^ In 
I6O7, there was an old French fisherman at Canseau 
who had voyaged to these seas for forty-two successive 
years.^ 

But if the wilderness of ocean had its treasures, so 
too, had the wilderness of woods. It needed but a few 
knives, beads, and trinkets, and the Indians would 
throng to the shore burdened with the spoils of their 
winter hunting. Fishermen threw up their old vocation 
for the more lucrative trade in bear-skins and beaver- 
skins. They built rude huts along the shores of Anti- 
costi, where, at that day, the bison, it is said, could be 
seen wallowing in the sands.^ They outraged the In- 
dians ; they quarrelled with each other ; and this in- 
fancy of the Canadian fur-trade showed rich promise 
of the disorders which marked its riper growth. Oth- 
ers, meanwhile, were ranging the gulf in search of 
walrus - tusks ; and, the year after the battle of Ivry 
St. Malo sent out a fleet of small craft in quest of this 
new prize. 

In all the western seaports, merchants and adventur- 
ers turned their eyes towards America ; not, like the 

1 Hakluyt, III. 132. Comp. Pinkerton, Voyages, XII. 174, and Tlievet 
MS. (1586). 

2 Lescarbot, II. 605. Purchas's date is wrong. 

3 Thevet MS. (1586). Thevet says that he had himself seen them. 
Perhaps he confounds them with the moose. 

In 1565, and for some years previous, bison-skins were brought by the 
Indians down tiie Potomac, and thence carried along-shore in canoes to 
the French about the Gulf of St. Lawrence. During two years, six thou- 
sand skins were thus obtained. Letters of Pedro Menendez to Philip IL 
MSS. 

On the fur-trade, see Hakluyt, III. 187, 193, 233, 292, etc. 
18* 



QIO LA EOCHE. — CHAMPLAIN. ~ DE MONTS. ] 1598. 

Sjiaiiiaids, seeking treasures of silver and gold, but the 
more modest gains of codfish and train-oil, beaver- 
skins and marine ivory. St. Malo was conspicuous 
above them all. The rugged Bretons loved the perils 
of the sea, and saw with a jealous eye every attempt to 
shackle their activity on this its favorite field. When 
two nephews of Cartier, urging the great services of 
their uncle, gained a monopoly of the American fur* 
trade for twelve years, such a clamor arose within the 
walls of St. Malo that the obnoxious grant was promptly 
revoked.^ 

But soon a power was in the field against which all 
St. Malo might clamor in vain. A Catholic nobleman 
of Brittany, the Marquis de la Roche, bargained with 
the King to colonize New France. On his part, he was 
to receive a monopoly of the trade, and a profusion of 
worthless titles and empty privileges. He was declared 
Lieutenant-General of Canada, Hochelaga, Newfound- 
land, Labrador, and the countries adjacent, with sover- 
eign power within his vast and. ill-defined domain. He 
could levy troops, declare war and peace, make laws, 
punish or pardon at will, build cities, forts, and castles, 
and grant out lands in fiefs, seigniories, counties, vis- 
counties, and baronies.^ Thus was effete and cumbrous 
feudalism to make a lodofment in the New World. It 
was a scheme of high-sounding promise, but, in per- 
formance, less than contemptible. La Roche ransacked 

1 Lescarbot, I. 418. Compare Rame, Documents In^dltft, 10. In Ilak- 
Uiyt are two letters of Jacques Noel, one of Cartier's nephews. 

'^ Letlres Patentes pour le Sieur de la Roche; Lescarbot, I. 422; Edits et 
Oiduiinances, (Quebec, 1804,) II. 4. 



1598.] THE CONVICTS OF SABLE ISLAND. g^ 

the prisons, and, gathering thence a gang of thieves 
and desperadoes, embarked them in a small vessel, and 
set sail to plant Christianity and civilization in the West. 
Suns rose and set, and tlie wretched bark, deep freighted 
with brutality and vice, held on her course. She was 
so small, that the convicts, leaning over her side, could 
wash their hands in the water.^ At length, on the 
gray horizon they descried a long, gray line of ridgy 
sand. It was Sable Island, oft' the coast of Nova 
Scotia. A wreck lay stranded on the beacli, and the 
surges broke ominously over the long, submerged arms 
of sand, stretched far out into the sea on the right 
hand and on the left. 

Here La Roche landed the convicts, forty in number, 
while, with his more trusty followers, he sailed to ex- 
plore the neighboring coasts and choose a site for the 
capital of his new dominion. Thither, in due time, 
he proposed to remove the prisoners. But suddenly 
a tempest from the west assailed him. The frail vessel 
was at its mercy. She must run before the gale, which, 
howling on her track, drove her off the coast, and chased 
her back towards France. 

Meanwhile the convicts watched in suspense for the 
returning sail. Days passed, weeks passed, and still 
they strained their eyes in vain across the waste of 
ocean. La Roche had left them to their fate. Rue- 
ful and desperate, they wandered among the sand-hills, 
through the stunted whortleberry - bushes, the rank 
sand - grass, and the tangled cranberry - vines which 

1 Lescarbot, I. 421. 



212 LA ROCHE. — CHAMPLAIN. — DE MONTS. [1603. 

filled the hollows. Not a tree was to he seen ; bat 
they built hiits of the fragments of the wreck. For 
food, they caught fish in the surrounding sea, and 
hunted the cattle which ran wild about the island, 
sprung, perhaps, from those left here eighty years 
before by the Baron de Lery.^ They killed seals, 
trapped black foxes, and clothed themselves in their 
skins. Their native instincts clung to them in their 
exile. As if not content with their inevitable miseries, 
they quarrelled and murdered each other. Season after 
season dragged on. Five years elapsed, and, of the 
forty, only twelve were left alive. Sand, sea, and sky, — 
there was little else around them ; though, to break the 
dead monotony, the walrus would sometimes rear his 
half human face and glistening sides on the reefs and 
sand-bars. At length, on the far verge of the watery 
desert, they descried a rising sail. She stood on towards 
the island ; a boat's crew landed on the beach, and the 
excited exiles were once more among their countrymen. 
When La Roche returned to France, the fate of his 
followers sat heavy on his mind. But the day of his 
prosperity was gone forever. A host of enemies rose 
against him and his privileges. The Duke de Mer- 
coeur, who still made head against the crown, and 
claimed sovereign power in Brittany, seized him and 
threw him into prison. In time, however, he gained 
a hearing of the King, and the Norman pilot Chedo- 
tel was despatched to bring the outcasts home. When 

1 Lescarbot, I. 22. Compare De Laet, 1. II. c. IV. etc. Charlevoix 
and Champlain say tliat they escaped from the wreck of a Spanish ves- 
sel ; Purchas, that they were left by the Portuguese. 



1699.] PONTGRAVE AND CHAUVIN. ' gXS 

they arrived in France, Henry the Fourth sunimonetl 
them into his presence. They stood before him, says 
an old writer, hke river - gods of yore ; ^ for, from 
head to foot they were clothed in shaggy skins, and 
beards of prodigious length hung from their swarthy 
faces. They had accumulated, on their island, a quan- 
tity of valuable furs. Of these Chedotel had robbed 
them ; but the pilot was forced to disgorge his prey, 
and, with the aid of a bounty from the King, they were 
enabled to embark on their own account in the Cana- 
dian trade.^ To their leader, fortune was less kind. 
Broken by disaster and imprisonment, La Roche died 
miserably. 

In the mean time, on the ruin of La Roche's enter- 
prise, a new one had been begun. Pontgrave, a mer- 
chant of St. Malo, leagued himself with Chauvin, a 
captain of the marine, who had influence at court. A 
patent was granted to them, with the condition that they 
should colonize the country. But their only thought 
was to enrich themselves. 

At Tadoussac, at the mouth of the Saguenay, under 
the shadow of savage and inaccessible rocks, feathered 
with pines, firs, and birch-trees, they built a cluster of 
wooden huts and storehouses. Here they left sixteen 
men to gather the expected harvest of furs. Before 
the winter was over, several of them were dead, and 
the rest scattered through the woods, living on the 
charity of the Indians.^ 

1 Charlevoix, 1. 109 ; Guerin, Navigateurs Frangats, 210. 

2 Purchas, IV. 1807. 

3 Champlain, (1632,) 34; Charlevoix, 1. 110; Estancelin, 96. Bergeron, 
Trait€de la Navigation, places the voyage of La Roche in 1578 



gl4« £.A ROCHE. — CHAMPLAIN.—UE MONTS. |1603. 

But a new era had dawned on France. Wearied 
and exhausted with thirty years of conflict, she liad 
sunk at last to a repose, uneasy and disturbed, yet the 
harbinger of recovery. The rugged soldier whom, 
for the weal of France and of mankind, Providence 
had cast to the troubled surface of affairs, was throned 
in the Louvre, composing the strife of factions and 
the quarrels of his mistresses. The bear-hunting prince 
of the Pyrenees wore the crown of France ; and to this 
day, as one gazes on the time-worn front of the Tuile- 
ries, above all other memories rises the small, strong 
figure, the brow wrinkled with cares of love and war, 
the bristling moustache, the grizzled beard, the bold, vig- 
orous, and withal somewhat odd features of the moun- 
taineer of Beam. To few has human liberty owed 
so deep a gratitude or so deep a grudge. Little did 
he care for creeds or systems. Impressible, quick in 
sympathy, his grim lip lighted often with a smile, and 
his war-worn cheek vras no stranger to a tear. He 
forgave his enemies, and forgot his friends. Many 
loved him ; none but fools trusted him. Mingled of 
mortal good and ill, frailty and force, of all the kings 
who for two centuries and more sat on the throne of 
France Henry the Fourth alone was a man. 

Art, industry, commerce, so long crushed and over- 
borne, were stirring into renewed life, and a crowd of 
adventurous men, nurtured in war and incapable of 
repose, must seek employment for their restless ener- 
gies in fields of peaceful enterprise. 

Two small, quaint vessels, not larger than the fishing- 



15'J8.] SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN Ql^ 

craft of Gloucester and Marblehead, — one was of 
twelve, the other of fifteen tons, — held their way across 
the treacherous Atlantic, passed the tempestuous head- 
lands of Newfoundland and the St. Lawrence, and, with 
adventurous knight-errantry, glided deep into the heart 
of the Canadian wilderness. On board of one of them 
was the Breton merchant, Pontgrave, and with him a 
man of spirit widely different, a Catholic gentleman 
of Saintonge, Samuel de Champlain, born in 1567 
at the small seaport of Brouagti on the Bay of Biscay. 
He was a captain in the royal navy, but, during- the 
war, he had fought for the King in Brittany, under 
the banners of D'Aumont de St. Luc and Brissac. 
His purse was small, his merit great; and Henry the 
Fourth out of his own slender revenues had given him 
a pension to maintain him near his person. But rest 
was penance to him. The war in Brittany was over. 
The rebellious Duke de Mercceur was reduced to obe- 
dience, and the royal army disbanded. Champlain, 
his occupation gone, conceived a design consonant with 
his adventurous nature. He would visit the West 
Indies, and bring back to the King a report of those 
regions of mystery whence Spanish jealousy excluded 
foreigners, and where every intruding Frenchman was 
threatened with death. Here much knowledge was to 
be won, much peril to be met. The joint attraction 
was resistless. 

The Spaniards, allies of the vanquished Leaguers, 
were about to evacuate Blavet, their last stronghold in 
Brittany. Thither Champlain repaired;, and here he 



Q\Q LA ROCHE. — CHAMPLAIN. — DE MONTS. [IGOO. 

found an uncle, who had charge of the French fleet 
destined to take on board the Spanish garrison. Cham- 
plain embarked with them, and, reaching Cadiz, suc- 
ceeded, with the aid of his relative, who had just ac- 
cepted the post of Pilot-General of the Spanish marine, 
in gaining command of one of the ships about to sail 
for the West Indies under Don Francisco Colombo. 

At Dieppe there is a curious old manuscript, in clear, 
decisive, and somewhat formal handwriting of the six- 
teenth century, garnished with sixty - one colored pic- 
tures, in a style of art which a child of ten might emu- 
late. Here one may see ports, harbors, islands, rivers, 
adorned with portraitures of birds, beasts, and fishes 
thereto pertaining. Here are Indian feasts and dances ; 
Indians flogged by priests for not attending mass ; In- 
dians burned alive for heresy, six in one fire ; Indians 
working the silver mines. Here, too, are descriptions 
of natural objects, each with its illustrative sketch, 
some drawn from life, some from memory, — as, for 
example, a chameleon with two legs, — others from 
hearsay, among which is the portrait of the griffin said 
to haunt certain districts of Mexico, a monster with the 
wings of a bat, the head of an eagle, and the tail of an 
alligator. 

This is Champlain's journal, written and illustrated 
by his own hand, in that defiance of perspective and 
absolute independence of the canons of Art, which mark 
the earliest efforts of the pencil. 

A true hero, after the chivalrous mediaeval type, his 
character was dashed largely with the spirit of romance. 



1600.1 CHAMPLAIN IN THE WEST INDIES. ^1*7 

Earnest, sagacious, penetrating, he yet leaned to tlie 
marvellous ; and the faith which was the life of his 
hard career was somewhat prone to overstep the bounds 
of reason and invade the alluring domain of fancy. 
Hence the erratic character of some of his exploits, 
and hence his simple faith in the Mexican griffin. 

His West-Indian adventure occupied him two years 
and a half. He visited the principal ports of the islands, 
made plans and sketches of them all, after his fashion, 
and then, landing at Vera Cruz, journeyed inland to the 
city of Mexico. Returning, he made his way to Pan- 
ama. Here, more than two centuries and a half ago, 
his bold and active mind conceived the plan of a ship- 
canal across the isthmus, "by which," he says, "the 
voyage to the South Sea would be shortened by more 
than fifteen hundred leagues." ^ 

Returning, he repaired to court, but soon wearied 
of the antechambers of the Louvre. Here, however, 
his destiny awaited him, and the work of his life was 

1 "... . Ton accourciroit par ainsy le chemin de plus de 1500 lieues, 
et depuis Panama jusques au destroit de Magellan se seroit une isle, et 
de Panama jusques aux Terres Neufves une autre isle," etc. — Cham- 
plain, Bref Discours, MS. A Biscayan pilot had before suggested the 
plan to the Spanish government ; but Philip the Second, probably in the 
interest of certain monopolies, forbade the subject to be again brought 
forward on pain of death. 

The journal is entitled, "Bref Discours des Choses plus Remarquables 
que Samuel Champlain de Brouage a recognues aux Indes Occidentales." 
The original MS., in Champlain's handwriting, is, or was, in the hands of 
M. Feret of Dieppe, a collateral descendant of the writer's patron, the 
Commander de Chastes. It consists of a hundred and fifteen small quarto 
pages. I am indebted to M. Jacques Viger for the use of his copy. . 

A translation of it was published in 1859, by the Hakluyt Society, with 
notes and a biographical notice by no means remarkable for accuracy. 



218 '^^ ROCHE.- CHAMPLAIN. — DE AIONTS. [1G03. 

unfolded. Ayniar de Chastes, Commander of the Or- 
der of St. John and Governor of Dieppe, a gray-haired 
veteran of the civil wars, would fain mark his closing 
days with some notable achievement for France and 
the Church. To no man was the King more deeply 
beholden. In his darkest hour, when the hosts of the 
League were gathering round him, when friends were 
falling off, and the Parisiims, exulting in his certain 
ruin, were hiring the windows of the Rue St. Antoine 
to see him led to the Bastille, De Chastes, without 
condition or reserve, gave up to him the town and 
castle of Dieppe. Thus he was enabled to fight be- 
neath its walls the battle of Arques, the first in the 
series of successes which secured his triumph; and he 
had been heard to say that to this friend in his adver- 
sity he owed his own salvation and that of France. 

Though a foe of the League, the old soldier was a 
devout Catholic, and it seemed in his eyes a noble con- 
summation of his life to plant tlie cross and the fleur- 
de-lis in the wilderness of New France. Chauvin was 
dead, after wasting the lives of a score or more of men 
in a second and a third attempt to establish the fur- 
trade at Tadoussac. De Chastes came to court to beg 
a patent of Henry the Fourth, " and," says his friend 
Champlain, " though his head was crowned with gray 
hairs as with years, he resolv^ed to proceed to New 
France in person, and dedicate the rest of his days to 
the service of God and his King-." 

The patent, costing nothing, was readily granted ; and 
De Chastes, to meet the expenses of the enterprise, and 



1603.] DE CHASTES AND CHAMPLAIN. j^jg 

perhaps forestall the jealousies which his monopoly 
would awaken among the keen merchants of the west- 
ern ports, formed a company with the more prominent 
of them. Pontg-rav^e, who had some knowledoe of 
the country, was chosen to make a preliminary explo- 
ration. 

This w^as the time when Champlain, fresh from the 
West Indies, appeared at court. De Chastes knew 
him well. Young, ardent, yet ripe in experience, a 
skilful seaman and a practised soldier, he above all 
others was a man for the enterprise. He had many con- 
ferences with the veteran, under whom he had served in 
the royal fleet off the coast of Brittany. De Chastes 
urged him to accept a post in his new company ; and 
Champlain, nothing loath, consented, provided always 
that permission should be had from the King, " to 
whom," he says, " I was bound no less by birth than 
by the pension with which His Majesty honored me." 
To the King, therefore, De Chastes repaired. The 
needful consent' was gained, and, armed with a letter 
to Pontgrave, Champlain set forth for Honfleur. Here 
he found his destined companion, and, embarking with 
him as we have seen, they spread their sails for the 
West. 

Like specks on the broad bosom of the waters, the 
two pigmy vessels held their course up the lonely St. 
Lawrence. They passed abandoned Tadoussac, the 
channel of Orleans, and the gleaming sheet of Montmo- 
renci ; they passed the tenantless rock of Quebec, the 
wide Lake of St. Peter, and its crowded archipelago, 



220 ^^ ROCHE. — CHAMPLAIN. -DE MONTS. [1603. 

till now the mountain reared before tliem its rounded 
shoulder above the forest-plain of Montreal. All was 
solitude. Hochelaga had vanished; and of the savage 
population that Cartier had found here, sixty - eight 
years before, no trace remained. In its place were a 
few wandering Algonquins, of different tongue and lin- 
eage. In a skiff, with a few Indians, Champlain es- 
sayed to pass the rapids of St. Louis. Oars, paddles, 
poles, alike proved vain against the foaming surges, 
and he was forced to return. On the deck of his ves- 
sel, the Indians made rude plans of the river above, 
with its chain of rapids, its lakes and cataracts ; and 
the baffled explorer turned his prow homeward, the 
objects of his mission accomplished, but his own adven- 
turous curiosity unsated. When the voyagers reached 
Havre de Grace, a grievous blow awaited them. The 
Commander de Chastes was dead.^ 

His mantle fell upon Pierre du Guast, Sieur de 
Monts, Gentleman in Ordinary of the King's Chamber, 
and Governor of Pons. Undaunted by the fate of La 
Roche, this nobleman petitioned the king for leave to 
colonize La Cadie, or Acadie,^ a region defined as ex- 

^ Champlain, Des Sauvages, (1604). Champlain's Indian informants 
gave him very confused accounts. They indicated the Falls of Niagara 
as a mere " rapid." They are laid down, however, in Champlain's great 
map of 1632 with the following note: — " Sault d'eau au bout du Sault 
[Lac] Sainct Louis fort hault oil plusieurs sortes de poissons doscendans 
s'estourdissent." 

2 This name is not found in any earlier public document. It was after- 
wards restricted to the peninsula of Nova Scotia, but the dispute concern- 
ing the limits of Acadia was a proximate cause of the war of 1755. 

The Avord is said to be derived from the Indian Aquoddiauke, or Aquod- 
die, meaning the fish called a pollock. The Bay of Passamaquoddy, 



1604.] SCHEMES OF DE MONTS. Q^l 

tending from the fortieth to the forty - sixth degree 
of north latitude, or from Philadelphia to beyond Mon- 
treal. The King's minister, Sidly, as he himself tells 
us, opposed the plan, on the ground that the coloniza- 
tion of this northern wilderness would never repay the 
outlay ; but De Monts gained his point. He was made 
Lieutenant-General in Acadia with viceregal powers; 
and withered Feudalism, with her antique forms and 
tinselled follies, was again to seek a home among the 
rocks and pine-trees of Nova Scotia. The foundation 
of the enterprise was a monopoly of the fur - trade, 
and in its favor all past grants were unceremoniously 
annulled. St. Malo, Rouen, Dieppe, Rochelle, greeted 
the announcement with unavailing outcries. Patents 
granted and revoked, monopolies decreed and extin- 
guished, had involved the unhappy traders in ceaseless 
embarrassment. De Monts, however, preserved De 
Chastes's old company, and enlarged it, thus making 
the chief malecontents sharers in his exclusive rights, 
and converting them from enemies into partners. 

A clause in his commission empowered him to im- 
press idlers and vagabonds as material for his colony, 
an ominous provision of which he largely availed him- 
self. His company was strangely incongruous. The 
best and the meanest of France were crowded together 
in his two ships. Here were thieves and ruffians 
dragged on board by force, and here were many volun- 
teers of condition and character, the Baron de Pou- 

•' great pollock water," derives its name from the same origin. Potter in 
Historical Magazine, I. 84. 
19* 



222 ^^ ROCHE.- CHAMPLAIN. — DE MONTS. [1004. 

triucourT; and the indefatigable Chaniplain. Here, too, 
were Catholic priests and Huguenot ministers ; for, 
though De Monts was a Calviuist, the Church, as usual, 
displayed her banner in the van of the enterprise, and 
he was forced to promise that he would cause the 
Indians to be instructed in the dogmas of Rome.^ 

^ Articles proposes au Rotf par te Sieur de Monts, MS ; Commissions du Roy 
et de Monseigneur V Admiral au Sieur de Monis ; Defenses du Roij Premieres 
et Secoiides, a tous ses subjects, autres que le Sieur de Monts, etc., de traffiquer, 
etc. ; Declaration du Roij ; Extraict de.s Registres de Parlement ; RemontraiM* 
faict iiu Roji par le Sieur <^ Monts, MS. ; etc., etc. 

There is a portrait of ' le Monts at Versailles. 



CHAPTER III. 

1604, 1605. 
ACADIA OCCUPIED. 

Catholic axd Calvinist. — The Lost Priest. — St. Croix. — Winteb 

MiSEUIKS. — CHAMPLAm ON THE COAST OF NeW ENGLAND. — POKX 

Royal. 

De Monts, with one of his vessels, sailed from 
Havre de Grace on the seventh of April, 1604i. Pont- 
grave, with stores for the colony, was to follow in a 
few days. 

Scarcely were they at sea, when ministers and priests 
fell first into discussions, then into quarrels, then to 
hlows. " I have seen our cure and the minister," says 
Champlain, " fall to with their fists on questions of faith. 
I cannot say which had the more pluck, or which hit 
the harder ; hut I know that the minister sometimes 
complained to the Sieur de Monts that he had been 
beaten. This was their way of settling points of con- 
troversy. I leave you to judge if it was a pleasant 
thing to see." ^ 

Siigard, the Franciscan friar, relates with horror, that, 
after their destination \va,s reached, a priest and a minis- 
ter happening to die at the same time, the crew buried 
them both in one grave, to see if they would lie peace' 
ably together.^ 

1 Cliamplain, (1G32,) 46. 2 gagard, Histoire du Canada, 9. 



224) ACADIA OCCUPIED. [1604. 

De Moiits, who had been to the St. Lawrence with 
Chauvin, and learned to dread its rigorous winters, 
steered for a more southern, and, as he flattered him- 
self, a milder region. The first land seen was Cape 
la Heve, on the southern coast of Nova Scotia. Four 
days later, they entered a small bay, where, to their 
surprise, they saw a vessel lying at anchor. Here was 
a piece of good luck. The stranger was a fur-trader, 
pursuing her traffic in defiance, or more probably in 
ignorance, of De Monts's monopoly. The latter, as em- 
powered by his patent, made prize of ship and cargo, 
consoling the commander, one Rossignol, by giving his 
name to the scene of his misfortune. It is now called 
Liverpool Harbor. 

In an adjacent harbor, called by them Port Mouton, 
because a sheep here leaped overboard, they waited 
nearly a month for Pontgrave's store-ship. At length, 
to their great relief, she appeared, laden with the spoils 
of four Basque fur-traders, captured at Canseau. The 
supplies delivered, Pontgrave sailed for Tadoussac to 
trade with the Indians, v/hile De Monts, followed by 
his prize, proceeded on his voyage. 

He doubled Cape Sable, and entered St. Mary's 
Bay, where he lay two weeks, sending boats' crews to 
explore the adjacent coasts. A party one day went on 
shore to stroll through the forest, and among them was 
Nicholas Anbry, a priest from Paris, who, tiring of the 
scholastic haunts of the Rue de la Sorbonne and the 
Rue d'Enfer, had persisted, despite the remonstrance 
of his friends, in joining the expedition. Thirsty after 



;.^04.| THE LOST PRIEST. — ANNAPOLIS. 0^5 

a iong- walk, under the sun of June, through the tan- 
gled and rock-encumbered woods, he stopped to drink 
at a brook, laying his sword beside him on the grass. 
On rejoining his companions, he found that he had for-^ 
gotten it ; and turning back in search of it, more skilled 
in the devious windings of the Quartier Latin than in 
the intricacies of the Acadian forest, he soon lost his 
way. His comrades, alarmed, waited for a time, then 
ranged the woods, shouting his name to the echoing 
solitudes. Trumpets were sounded, and cannon fired 
from the ships, but the priest did not appear. All now 
looked askance on a certain Huguenot, with whom 
Aubry had often quarrelled on questions of faith, and 
who was now accused of having killed him. In vain 
he denied the charge. Aubry was given up for dead, 
and the ships sailed from St. Mary's Bay ; while the 
wretched priest roamed to and fro, famished and de- 
spairing, or, couched on the rocky soil, in the troubled 
sleep of exhaustion, dreamed, perhaps, as the wind swept 
moaning through the pines, that he heard once more 
the organ roll through the columned arches of Sainte 
Genevieve. 

The voyagers proceeded to explore the Bay of Fundy, 
called by De Monts La Bay Frangoise. Their first 
notable discovery was that of Annapolis Harbor. A 
small inlet invited them. They entered, when sud- 
denly the narrow strait dilated into a broad and tran- 
quil basin, compassed with sunny hills, wrapped in 
woodland verdure and alive with waterfalls. Poutrin- 
court was delighted with the scene. He would faiu 



(2,^2,6 ACADIA OCCUPIED. [1604 

remove thither from France with his family ; and, to 
this end, he asked a grant of the place from T)e Monts, 
who by his patent had nearly half the continent in his 
gift. The grant was made, and Poutrincourt called 
his new domain Port Royal. 

Thence they sailed round the head of the Bay of 
Fundy, coasted its northern shore, visited and named 
the River St. John, aijd anchored at last in Passama- 
quoddy Bay. 

The untiring Champlain, exploring, surveying, sound- 
ing, had made charts of all the principal roads and har- 
bors;-^ and now, pursuing his research, he entered a 
river which he calls La Riviere des Etechemins. Near 
its mouth he found an islet, fenced round with rocks 
and shoals, and called it St. Croix, a name now borne 
by the river itself. With singular infelicity this spot 
was chosen as the site of the new colony. It com- 
manded the river, and was well fitted for defence : 
these were its only merits ; yet cannon were landed on 
it, a battery was planted on a detached rock at one end, 
and a fort begun on a rising ground at the other.^ 

At St. Mary's Bay the voyagers had found, or 
thought they had found, traces of iron and silver; and 
Champdore, the pilot, was now sent back to pursue the 
search. As he and his men lay at anchor, fishing, not 
far from land, one of them heard a strange sound, like 
a weak human vo-ice ; and, looking towards the shore, 
they saw a small black object in motion, apparently a 

1 See Champlain, Voyages, (1613,) where the charts are published 
* Lescarbot, Hist, de (a Nouvelle France, (1612,) II. 461 



1604.J ST. CROIX. (^(^ 

hat waved on the end of a stick. Rovvhig in haste to 
the spot, they found the priest Aubry. For sixteen 
days he had wandered in the woods, sustaining life on 
berries and wild fruits ; and when, haggard and ema- 
ciated, a shadow of his former self, Champdore carried 
him back to St. Croix, he was greeted as a man risen 
from the grave. 

In 1783 the River St. Croix, by treaty, was made 
the boundary between Maine and New Brunswick. 
But which was the true St. Croix X In 1798, the 
point was settled. De Monts's island was found ; and, 
painfully searching among the sand, the sedge, and the 
matted whortleberry - bushes, the commissioners could 
trace the foundations of buildings long crumbled into 
dust.^ For the wilderness had resumed its sway, and 
silence and solitude brooded once more over this ancient 
resting-place of civilization. 

But while the commissioner bends over a moss- 
grown stone, it is for us to trace back the dim vista of 
the centuries to the life, the zeal, the energy, of wiiich 
this stone is the poor memorial. The rock-fenced islet 
was covered with cedars, and when the tide was out, 
the shoals around were dark with the swash of sea- 
weed, where, in their leisure moments, the Frenchmen, 
we are told, amused themselves with detaching the 
limpets from the stones, as a savory addition to their 
fare. But there was little leisure at St. Croix. Sol- 
diers, sailors, artisans, betook themselves to their task. 
Before the winter closed in, the northern end of the 

•^ Holmes, Annals, I. 122, note 1. 



ggg ACADIA OCCUPIED, [1604 

island was covered with buildings, surrounding a square, 
where a solitary tree had been left standing. On the 
right was a spacious house, well built, and surmounted 
by one of those enormous roofs characteristic of the 
time. This was the lodging of De Monts. Behind 
it, and near the water, was a long, covered gallery, for 
labor or amusement in foul weather. Champlain and 
the Sieur d'Orville, aided by the servants of the latter, 
built a house for themselves nearly opposite that of 
De Monts ; and the remainder of the square was occu- 
pied by storehouses, a magazine, workshops, lodgings 
for gentlemen and artisans, and a barrack for the 
Swiss soldiers, the whole enclosed with a palisade. Ad- 
jacent there was an attempt at a garden, under the 
auspices of Champlain ; but nothing would grow in the 
sandy soil. There was a cemetery, too, and a small 
rustic chapel on a projecting point of rock. Such was 
the " Habitation of St. Croix," as set forth by Cham- 
plain in quaint plans and drawings, in that musty little 
quarto of 1613, sold by Jean Berjon, at the sign of the 
Flying Horse, Rue St. Jean de Beauvais. 

Their labors over, Poutrincourt set sail for France, 
proposing to return and take possession of his domain 
of Port Royal. Seventy - nine men remained at St. 
Croix. Here was De Monts, feudal lord of half a 
continent in virtue of two potent syllables, " Henri," 
scrawled on parchment by the rugged hand of the 
Bearnais. Here were gentlemen of birth and breeding, 
Champlain, D'Orville, Beaumont, Sourin, La Motte, 
Boulay, and Fougeray ; here was the pugnacious cure 



1C05.1 SUPFERINGS OF THE FRENCH. £(^9 

and his fellow - priests, with the Huguenot ministers, 
objects of their unceasing ire. The rest were laborers, 
artisans, and soldiers, all in the pay of the company, 
and many of them forced into its service. 

Poutrincourt's receding sails vanished between the 
water and the sky. The exiles were left to their solitude. 
From the S[)anish settlements northward to the pole, no 
domestic hearth, no lodgment of civilized men through 
all the borders of America, save one weak band of 
Frenchmen, clinging, as it were for life, to the fringe 
of the vast and savage continent. The gray and sullen 
autumn sank upon the waste, and the bleak wind howled 
down the St. Croix, and swept the forest bare. Then 
the whirling snow powdered the vast sweep of desolate 
woodland, and shrouded in white the gloomy green of 
pine-clad mountains. Ice in sheets, or broken masses, 
swept by their island with the ebbing and flowing 
tide, often debarring all access to the main, and cutting 
off their supplies of wood and water. A belt of 
cedars, indeed, hedged the island ; but De Monts had 
ordered them to be spared, that the north wind might 
spend something of its force with whistling through 
their shaggy boughs. Cider and wine froze in the 
casks, and were served out by the pound. As they 
crowded round their half-fed tires, shivering in the icy 
currents that pierced their rude tenements, many sank 
into a desperate apathy. 

Soon the scurvy broke out and raged with a fearful 
malignity. Of the seventy-nine, thirty-five died before 
spring, and many more were brought to the verge of 

20 



J230 ACADIA OCCUPIED. |1605. 

death. In vain they sought that marvellous plant 
which had relieved the followers of Cartier. Their 
little cemetery was peopled with nearly half their num- 
ber, and the rest, bloated and disfigured with the relent- 
less malady, thought more of escaping from their woes 
than of building up a Transatlantic empire. Yet 
among them there was one at least, who, amid languor 
and defection, held to his purpose with an indomitable 
tenacity ; and, where Champlain was present, there was 
no room for despair. 

Spring came at last, and, with the breaking -up of 
the ice, the melting of the snow, and the clamors of the 
returning wild-fowl, the spirits and the health of the 
woe-begone company began to revive. But to misery 
succeeded anxiety and suspense. Where was the suc- 
cor from France ? Were they abandoned to their fate 
like the wretched exiles of La Roche 1 In a happy 
hour, they saw an approaching sail. Pontgrave, with 
forty men, cast anchor before their island on the six- 
teenth of June ; and they hailed him as the condemned 
hails the messenger of his pardon. 

Weary of St, Croix, De Monts would fain seek out 
a more auspicious site, whereon to rear the capital of 
his wilderness dominion. During the previous Sep- 
tember, Champlain had ranged the westward coast in a 
pinnace, visited and named the cliffs of Mount Desert, 
and entered the mouth of the River Penobscot, called 
by him the Pemetigoet, or Pentegoet, and previously 
known to fur - traders and fishermen as the Norem- 
bega, a name which it shared with all the adjacent 



1605.] EXPLORATIONS OF CHAMPLAIN. ^gj 

region.' Now, embarking a second time in a bark of 
fifteen tons, with De Monts, several gentlemen, twenty 
sailors, and an Indian with his squaw, he set forth on 
the eighteenth of June on a second voyage of discov- 
ery. Along the strangely indented coasts of Maine, 
by reef and surf- washed island, black headland and 
deep - embosomed bay, — by Mount Desert and the 
Penobscot, the Kennebec, the Saco, Portsmouth Har- 
bor, and the Isles of Shoals, — landing daily, holding 
conference with Indians, giving and receiving gifts, — ■ 
the) held their course, like some adventurous party of 
pleasure, along those now familiar shores. Champlain, 
who, we are told, " delighted marvellously in these 
enterprises," busied himself, after his wont, with taking 
observations, sketching, making charts, and exploring 
with an insatiable avidity the wonders of the land and 
the sea. Of the latter, the horseshoe - crab awakened 
his especial curiosity, and he describes it at length, with 
an amusing accuracy. With equal truth he paints the 
Indians, whose round, mat-covered lodges they could 
see at times thickly strewn along the shores, and who, 
from bays, inlets, and sheltering islands, came out to 
meet them in canoes of bark or wood. They were an 
agricultural race. Patches of corn, beans, tobacco, 
squashes, and esculent roots lay near all their wigwams. 

1 The earliest maps and narratives indicate a city, also called Norem- 
bega, on the banks of the Penobscot. The pilot, Jean Alphonse, of Xain- 
tonge, saj's that tliis fabulous city is fifteen or twenty leagues from the 
sea, and that its inhabitants are of small stature and dark complexion. 
As late as 1607 the fable was repeated in the Histoire Universelle des Indes 
Occidenlales. 



£3^ ACADIA OCCUPIED. [1605 

Clearly, they were in greater number than when, fifteen 
years afterwards, the Puritans made their lodgment at 
Plymouth, since, happily for the latter, a pestilence had 
then more than decimated this tierce population of the 
woods. 

Passing the Merrimac, the voyagers named it La 
Riviere du Gas (du Guast), in honor of De Monts. 
From Cape Ann, which they called St. Louis, they 
crossed to Cape Cod, and named it Cap Blanc.^ 
Thence they proceeded to an inlet, apparently Nausett 
Harbor, which, perplexed by its shoals and sand-bars, 
they called Malabar.^ Here their prosperity deserted 
them. A party of sailors went behind the sand-banks 
to find fresh water at a spring, when an Lidian snatched 
a kettle from one of them, and its owner, pursuing, fell, 
pierced with arrows by the robber's comrades. The 
French in the vessel opened fire. Champlain's arque- 
buse burst and wellnigh killed him, while the Indians, 
swift as deer, quickly gained the woods. Several of 
the tribe chanced to be on board the vessel, but fiung 
themselves with such alacrity into the water that only 
one was caught. He was bound hand and foot, but 
was soon after humanely set at liberty. 

Provision failing, they steered once more for St. 
Croix, and on tbe third of August readied that ill- 
starred island. De Monts had found no spot to his 

1 In the Cosmographie of Thevet, (1575,) Cape Cod is called the Fi'om- 
ontory of Angouleme. 

^ The cape since called Malabar is laid down on Champlain's map as 
Cap Baturier. Cape Cod had been visited and named by Gosnold in 
1602. 



1605.] PORT HOYAL. 283 

liking. He bethought him of that inland harbor of 
Port Royal — now Annapolis Basin — which he had 
granted to Poutrincourt, and tliither he resolved to re- 
move. Stores, utensils, even portions of the buildings, 
were placed on board the vessels, carried across the Bay 
of Fundy, and landed at the chosen spot. It was on 
the north side of the basin at the mouth of the River 
Annapolis, called by the French the Equille, and, after- 
wards, the Dauphin. The axe-men began their task ; 
the dense forest was cleared away, and the buildings of 
the infant colony soon rose in its place. 

But while De Monts and his company were strug- 
gling against despair at St. Croix, the enemies of his 
monopoly were busy at Paris ; and, by a ship from 
France, he was warned that prompt measures were 
needful to thwart their machinations. Therefore he 
set sail, leaving Pontgrave to command at Port Royal ; 
while Champlain, Champdore, and others, undaunted 
by the past, volunteered for a second winter in the wil- 
derness. And here we leave them, to follow their chief 
on his forlorn errand. 
20* 



CHAPTER IV. 

1605 — 1607. 
LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. 

De Monts at Paris. — Marc Lescarbot. — Disaster. — Embarkation. 
— Arrival. — Disappointment. — Winter Life at Port Koyal. — 
L'Ordre de Bon-Temps. — Hopes blighted. 

Evil reports of a churlish wilderness, a pitiless cli- 
mate, disease, misery, and death, had heralded the 
arrival of De Monts. The outlay had been great, the 
returns small ; and when he reached Paris he found 
his friends cold, his enemies active and keen. Poutrin- 
court, however, was still full of zeal ; and, though his 
private affairs urgently called for his presence in France, 
he resolved, at no small sacrifice, to go in person to 
Acadia. He had, moreover, a friend who proved ah 
invaluable ally. This was Marc Lescarbot, " avocat en 
Parlemenf" He had been roughly handled by for- 
tune, and was in the mood for such a venture. Unlike 
De Monts, Poutrincourt, Champlain, and others of his 
associates, he was not within the pale of the noblesse^ 
belonging to the class of ^^ gens de robe^'' which stood 
at the head of the hoiirgeoisie, and which, in its higher 
grades, formed within itself a virtual nobility. Les- 
carbot was no common man. Not that his abundant 
gift of verse-making was likely to avail much in the 
woods of New France, nor yet his classic lore, dashed 



1605.J MAKC LESCARBOT. OQ^ 

with a little harmless pedantry, born not of the man, 
but of the times. But his zeal, his good sense, the 
vigor of his understanding, and the breadth of his 
views, were as conspicuous as his quick wit and his 
lively fancy. One of the best, as well as earliest, 
records of the early settlement of North America is 
due to his pen ; and it has been said with truth, that he 
was no less able to build up a colony than to write its 
historv. 

De iVEonts and Poutrincourt bestirred themselves to 
find a priest, inasmuch as the foes of the enterprise had 
been loud in lamentations that the spiritual welfare of 
the Indians had been slighted. But it was Holy Week. 
All the priests were, or professed to be, busy with exer- 
cises and confessions, and not one could be found to 
undertake the mission of Acadia. They were more 
successful in engaging mechanics and laborers for the 
voyage. These were paid a portion of their w^ages in 
advance, and were sent in a body to Rochelle, consigned 
to two merchants of that port, members of the com- 
pany. De Monts and Poutrincourt went thither by 
post. Lescarbot soon followed, and no sooner reached 
Rochelle than he penned and printed his Adieu a la 
France^ a poem which gained for him some credit. 

More serious matters awaited him, however, than 
this dalliance with the Muse. Rochelle was the centre 
and citadel of Calvinism, a town of austere and grim 
aspect, divided, like Cisatlantic communities of later 
growth, betwixt trade and religion, and, in the interest 
of both, exacting a deportment of discreet and well 



23(3 I-ESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. |1006. 

ordered sobriety. " One must walk a strait path here," 
says Lescarbot, " unless he would hear from the mayor 
or the ministers." But the mechanics sent from Paris, 
flush of money, and lodged together in the quarter of 
St. Nicholas, made day and night hideous witli riot, 
and their employers found not a few of them in the 
hands of the police. Their ship, bearing the inaus- 
picious name of the Jonas, lay anchored in the stream, 
her cargo on board, when a sudden gale blew her adrift. 
She struck on a pier, then grounded on the flats, bilged, 
careened, and settled in the mud. Her captain, who 
was ashore, with Poutrincourt, Lescarbot, and others, 
hastened aboard, and the pumps were set in motion ; 
while all Rochelle, we are told, came to gaze from the 
ramparts, with faces of condolence, but at heart well 
pleased with the disaster. The ship and her cargo were 
saved, but she must be emptied, repaired, and reladen. 
Thus a month was lost ; at length, on the thirteenth of 
May, 1606, the disorderly crew were all brought on 
board, and the Jonas put to sea. Poutrincourt and 
Lescarbot had charge of the expedition, De Monts 
remaining in France. 

OR' the Azores, they spoke a supposed pirate. For 
the rest, they beguiled the voyage by harpooning por- 
poises, dancing on deck in calm weather, and fish- 
ing for cod on the Grand Bank. They were two 
months on their way, and when, fevered with eagerness 
to reach land, they listened hourly for the welcome 
cry, they were involved in impenetrable fogs. Sud- 
denly the mists parted, the sunlight shone forth, and 



1606.J POET ROYAL. ^Sl 

streamed fair and bright over the fresh hills and for- 
ests of the New World, in near view before them. But 
the black rocks lay between, lashed by the snow-white 
breakers. " Thus," writes Lescarbot, " doth a man 
sometimes seek the land as one doth his beloved, who 
sometimes repulseth her sweetheart very rudely. Fi- 
nally, upon Saturday the fifteenth of July, about two 
o'clock in the afternoon, the sky began to salute us, as 
it were, with cannon - shots, shedding tears, as being 
sorry to have kept us so long in pain ; .... but, 
whilst we followed on our course, there came from the 
land odors incomparable for sweetness, brought with a 
warm wind so abundantly that all the orient parts could 
not produce greater abundance. We did stretch out 
our hands as it were to take them, so palpable were 
they, which I have admired a thousand times since." ^ 

It was noon on the twenty-seventh when the Jonas 
passed the rocky gate-way of Port Royal Basin, and 
Lescarbot gazed with delight and wonder on the calm 
expanse of sunny waters, with its amphitheatre of 
woody hills, wherein he saw the future asylum of dis- 
tressed merit and impoverished industry. Slowly, be- 
fore a favoring breeze, they held their course towards 
the head of the harbor, which narrowed as they ad- 
vanced ; but all was solitude ; no moving sail, no 
sign of human presence. At length, on their left, 
nestling in deep forests, they saw the wooden walls 
and roofs of the infant colony. Then appeared a 
birch canoe, cautiously coming towards them, guided by 

* The translation is that of Purchas, Nova Francia, c. XII. 



QSS LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. [U06. 

an old Indian. Then a Frenchman, aiquebuse in hand, 
came down to the shore ; and then, from the wooden 
bastion, sprang the smoke of a saluting shot. The 
ship replied; the trumpets lent their voices to the din, 
and the forests and the hills gave back unwonted echoes. 
The voyagers landed, and found the colony of Port 
Royal dwindled to two solitary Frenchmen. 

These soon told their story. The preceding winter 
had been one of much suffering, though by no means the 
counterpart of the woful experience of St. Croix. But 
when the spring had passed, the summer far advanced, 
and still no tidings of De Monts had come, Pontgrave 
grew deeply anxious. To maintain themselves with- 
out supplies and succor was impossible. He caused two 
small vessels to be built, and set forth in search of some 
of the French vessels on the fishing-stations. This was 
but twelve days before the arrival of the ship Jonas. 
Two men had bravely offered themselves to stay behind 
and guard the buildings, guns, and munitions; and an 
old Indian chief, named Membertou, a fast friend of 
the French, and still, we are told, a redoubted warrior, 
though reputed to number more than a hundred years, 
proved a stanch ally. When the ship approached, 
the two guardians were at dinner in their room at the 
fort. Membertou, always on the watch, saw the ad- 
vancing sail, and, shouting from the gate, roused them 
from their repast. In doubt who the new-comers 
might be, one ran to the shore with his gun, while the 
other repaired to the platform where four cannon were 
mounted, in the valorous resolve to show ti^ht should 



1606.1 REUNIOIT. 



239 



tlie strangers prove to be enemies. Happily this redun- 
dancy of mettle proved needless. He saw the white 
flag fluttering at the mast-head, and joyfully fired his 
pieces as a salute. 

The voyagers landed and eagerly surveyed their new 
home. Some wandered through the buildings; some 
visited the cluster of Indian wigwams hard by ; some 
roamed in the forest and over the meadows that bor- 
dered the neighboring river. The deserted fort now 
swarmed with life; and the better to celebrate their 
prosperous arrival, Poutrincourt placed a hogshead of 
wine in the court-yard at the discretion of his followers, 
whose hilarity, in consequence, became exuberant. Nor 
was it diminished when Pontgrave's vessels were seen 
entering the harbor. A boat sent by Poutrincourt, 
more than a week before, to explore the coasts, had met 
them among the adjacent islands, and they had joyfully 
returned to Port Royal. 

Pontgrave, however, soon sailed for France in the 
Jonas, hoping on his way to seize certain contraband 
fur-traders, reported to be at Canseau and Cape Breton. 
Poutrincourt and Champlain set forth on a voyage of 
discovery, in an ill-built vessel of eighteen tons, while 
Lescarbot remained in charge of Port Royal. They 
had little for their pains but danger, hardship, and 
mishap. The autumn gales cut short their exploration ; 
and, after advancing as far as the neighborhood of 
Hyannis, on the southeast coast of Massachusetts, they 
turned back somewhat disgusted with their errand. 
Along the eastern verge of Cape Cod, they found the 



240 LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. [1G06. 

shore thickly studded with the wigwams of a race who 
were less hunters, than tillers of the soil. At Chat- 
ham Harhor — called by them Port Fortune — five of 
the company, who, contrary, to orders, had remained on 
shore all night, were assailed, as they slept around their 
fire, by a shower of arrows from four hundred Indians. 
Two were killed outright, while the survivors fled for 
their boat, bristled like porcupines, — a scene oddly por- 
trayed by the untutored pencil of Champlain. He, 
with Poutrincourt and eight men, hearing the war- 
whoops and the cries for aid, sprang up from sleep, 
snatched their weapons, pulled ashore in their shirts, 
and charged the yelling multitude, who fled before their 
spectral assailants, and vanished in the woods. " Thus," 
observes Lescarbot, " did thirty-five thousand Midianites 
fly before Gideon and his three hundred." The French 
buried their dead comrades ; but, as they chanted their 
funeral hymn, the Indians, at a safe distance on a neigh- 
boring hill, were dancing in glee and triumph, and 
mocking them with unseemly gestures ; and no sooner 
had the party reembarked, than they dug up the dead 
bodies, burnt them, and arrayed themselves in their 
shirts. Little pleased with the country or its inhabi- 
tants, the voyagers turned their prow towards Port 
Royal. Near Mount Desert, on a stormy night, their 
rudder broke, and they had a hair-breadth escape from 
destruction. The chief object of their voyage, that of 
discovering a site for their colony under a more south- 
ern sky, had failed. Pontgrave's son had his hand 
blown off by the bursting of his gun ; several of their 



IGOb.j AVOCATIONS OF LESCARBOT. g^] 

number had been killed ; others were sick or wounded ; 
and thus, on the fourteenth of November, with some- 
what downcast visages, they guided their helpless ves- 
sel with a pair of oars to the landing at Port Royal. 

" I will not," says Lescarbot, " compare their perils 
to those of Ulysses, nor yet of ^Eneas, lest thereby 1 
should sully our holy enterprise with things impure." 

He and his followers had been expecting them with 
great anxiety. His alert and buoyant spirit had con- 
ceived a plan for enlivening the courage of the com- 
pany, a little dashed of late with misgivings and fore- 
bodings. Accordingly, as Poutrincourt, Champlain, 
and their weather-beaten crew approached the wooden 
gate-way of Port Royal, Neptune issued forth, followed 
by his tritons, who greeted the voyagers in good French 
verse, written in all haste for the occasion by Lescarbot. 
And, as they entered, they beheld, blazoned over the 
arch, the arms of France, circled with laurels, and 
flanked by the scutcheons of De Monts and Poutrin- 
court.^ 

The ingenious author of these devices had busied 
himself, during the absence of his associates, in more 
serious labors for the welfare of the colony. He ex- 
plored the low borders of the River Equille, or Annap- 
olis. Here, in the solitude, he saw great meadows, 
where the moose, with their young, were grazing, and 
where at times the rank grass was beaten to a pulp 
by the trampling of their hoofs. He burned the 

* Lescarbot, Muses de la Nouvelle France, where the programme is given, 
and the speeches of Neptune and tlie tritons in full. 
21 



24^2 LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. [IGOt,. 

grass, and sowed crops of wheat, rye, and barley in its 
stead. He made gardens, near the fort, where, in 
his zeal, he phed the hoe with his own hands, late into 
the moonlight evenings. The priests, of whom at the 
outset there had been no lack, had all succumbed to the 
scurvy at St. Croix ; and Lescarbot, so far as a layman 
might, essayed to supply their place, reading on Sun- 
days from the Scriptures, and adding expositions of his 
own after a fashion which may cast a shade of doubt 
on the rigor of his catholicity. Of an evening, when 
not engrossed with his garden, he was reading or writ- 
ing in his room, perhaps preparing the material of that 
History of Neiv France in which, despite the versa- 
tility of his busy brain, his excellent good sense and 
true capacity are clearly made manifest. 

Now, however, when the whole company were re- 
assembled, Lescarbot found associates more congenial 
than the rude soldiers, mechanics, and laborers who 
gathered at night around the blazing logs in their rude 
hall. Port Royal was a quadrangle of wooden build- 
ings, enclosing a spacious court. At the southeast 
corner was the arched gate-way, whence a path, a few 
paces in length, led to the water. It was flanked by 
a sort of bastion of palisades, while at the southwest 
corner was another bastion, on which four cannon were 
mounted. On the east side of the quadrangle was a 
range of magazines and storehouses ; on the west were 
quarters for the men ; on the north, a dining-hall and 
lodgings for the principal persons of the company ; 
while on the south, or water side, were the kitchen, the 



1606.] "L'OEDRE DE BON-TEMPS." ^4,3 

forge, and the oven. Except the garden - patches and 
the cemetery, the adjacent ground was thickly studded 
with the stumps of the newly felled trees. 

Most bountiful provision had been made for the tem- 
poral wants of the colonists, and Lescarbot is profuse in 
praise of the liberality of De Monts and two merchants 
of Rochelle, who had freighted the ship Jonas. Of wine, 
in particular, the supply was so generous that every 
man in Port Royal was served with three pints daily. 

The principal persons of the colony sat, fifteen in 
number, at Poutrincourt's table, which, by an ingenious 
device of Champlain, was always well furnished. He 
formed the fifteen into a new order, christened " L'Ordre 
de Bon - Temps." Each was Grand Master in turn, 
holding office for one day. It was his function to cater 
for the company ; and, as it became a point of honor to' 
fill the post with credit, the prospective Grand Master 
was usually busy, for several days before coming to his 
dignity, in hunting, fishing, or bartering provisions with 
the Indians. Thus did Poutrincourt's table groan 
beneath all the luxuries of the winter forest: flesh of 
moose, caribou, and deer, beaver, otter, and hare, bears, 
and wild-cats ; with ducks, geese, grouse, and plover ; 
sturgeon, too, and trout, and fish innumerable, speared 
through the ice of the Equille, or drawn from the 
depths of the neighboring sea. " And," says Les- 
carbot, in closing his bill of fare, " whatever our gour- 
mands at home may think, we found as good cheer at 
Port Royal as they at their Rue aux Ours^ in Paris. 

1 A short street between Rue St. Martin and Rue St. Denis, once re- 
nowned for its restaurants. 



Q44 LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIX. ^ [1606. 

and that, too, at a c?ieaper rate." As for the prepara- 
tion of this manifold provision, for that too was the 
Grand Master answerable ; since, during his day of 
office, he was autocrat of the kitchen. 

Nor did this bounteous repast lack a solemn and 
befitting ceremonial. When the hour had struck, — • 
after the manner of our fathers they dined at noon, — ■ 
the Grand Master entered the hall, a napkin on his 
shoulder, his staff of office in his hand, and the collar 
of the order — of which the chronicler fails not to 
commemorate the costliness — about his neck. The 
brotherhood followed, each bearing a dish. The in- 
vited guests were Indian chiefs, of whom old Member- 
tou was daily present, seated at table with the French, 
who took pleasure in this red - skin companionship. 
Those of humbler degree, warriors, squaws, and chil- 
dren, sat on the floor or crouched together in the cor- 
ners of the hall, eagerly waiting their portion of biscuit 
or of bread, a novel and much coveted luxury. Treated 
always with kindness, they became fond of the French, 
who often followed them on their moose - hunts, and 
shared their winter bivouac. 

At their evening meal there was less of form and 
circumstance ; and, when the winter night closed in, 
when the flame crackled and the sparks streamed up 
the wide-throated chimney, Avhen the founders of New 
France and their tawny allies were gathered around the 
blaze, then did the Grand Master resign the collar and 
the staff to the successor of his honors, and, with jovial 
courtesy, pledge him in a cup of wine.^ Thus did 
1 Lescarbot, (1612.) II. 581. 



loOT.j EETURN OF SPRING. 24fd 

these ingenious Frenchmen beguile the winter of their 
exile. 

It was a winter unusually benignant. Until Jan- 
uary, tlify wore no warmer garment than their doub- 
lets. Tliey made hunting and fishing parties, in which 
the Indians, whose lodges were always to be seen under 
the friendly shelter of the building's, failed not to bear 
a part. " I remember," says Lescarbot, " that on the 
fourteenth of January, of a Sunday afternoon, we 
amused ourselves with singing and music on the River 
Equille, and that in the same month we went to see 
the wheat - fields two leagues from the fort, and dined 
merrily in the sunshine." 

Good spirits and good cheer saved them in ai'reat 
measure from the scurvy, and though, towards the end 
of winter, severe cold set in, yet only four men died. 
The snow thawed at last, and as patches of the black 
and oozy soil began to appear, they saw the grain of 
their last autumn's sowing already piercing the mould. 
The forced inaction of the winter was over. The car- 
penters built a water-mill ; others enclosed fields and 
laid out gardens ; others, again, with scoop - nets and 
baskets, caught the herrings and alewives as they ran 
up the innumerable rivulets. The leaders of the colony 
set a contagious example of activity. Poutrincourt for- 
got the prejudices of his nohle birth, and went himself 
into the woods to gather turpentine from the pines, which 
he converted into tar by a process of his own invention; 
while Lescarbot, eager to test the qualities of the soil, 

was again, hoe in hand, at work all day in his garden. 
21* 



246 LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. [1607. 

All seemed full of promise ; but alas for the bright 
hope that kindled the manly heart of Champlain and 
the earnest spirit of the vivacious advocate ! A sudden 
blight fell on them, and their rising- prosperity withered 
to the ground. On a morning, late in spring, as the 
French were at breakfast, the ever watchful Membertou 
came in with news of an approaching sail. They has- 
tened to the shore ; but the vision of the centenarian 
sagamore put them all to shame. They could see noth- 
ing. At length their doubts were resolved. In full view 
a small vessel stood on towards them, and anchored 
before the fort. She was commanded by one Chevalier, 
a voun2" man from St. Malo, and was freighted with dis- 
astrous tidings. De Monts's monopoly was rescinded. 
Tiie life of the enterprise was stopped, and the estab- 
lishment at Port Royal could no longer be supported ; 
for its expense was great, the body of the colony being 
laborers in the pay of the company. Nor was the 
annulling of the patent the full extent of the disaster ; 
for, during the last summer, the Dutch had found their 
way to the St. Lawrence, and carried away a rich har- 
vest of furs, while other interloping traders had plied 
a busy traffic along the coasts, and, in the excess of 
their avidity, dug up the bodies of buried Indians to 
rob them of their funeral robes. 

It was to the merchants and fishermen of the Nor- 
man, Breton, and Biscayan ports, exasperated at their 
exclusion from a lucrative trade, and at the confiscations 
which had sometimes followed their attempts to engage 
in it, that this sudden blow was due. Money had been 



1607.] PORT ROYAL ABANDONED. gt^ 

used freely at court, and the monopoly, unjustly granted, 
had been more unjustly withdrawn, De Monts and his 
company, who had spent a hundred thousand livres, 
were allowed six thousand in requital, to be collected 
from the fur-traders in the form of a tax. 

Chevalier, captain of the ill-omened bark, was enter- 
tained with a hospitality little deserved, since, having 
been entrusted with sundry hams, fruits, spices, sweet- 
meats, jellies, and other dainties, sent by the generous 
De Monts to his friends of New France, he with his 
crew had devoured them on the voyage, alleging, in 
justification, that, in their belief, the inmates of Port 
Royal would all be dead before their arrival. 

Choice there was none, and Port Royal must be 
abandoned. Built on a false basis, sustained only by the 
fleeting favor of a government, the generous enterprise 
had come to nought. Yet Poutrincourt, who in virtue 
of his grant from De Monts owned the locality, bravely 
resolved, that, come what might, he would see the 
adventure to an end, even should it involve emigration 
with his family to the wilderness. Meanwhile, he began 
the dreary task of abandonment, sending boat-loads of 
men and stores to Canseau, where lay the ship Jonas, 
eking out her diminished profits by fishing for cod. 

Membertou.was full of grief at the departure of his 
friends. He had built a palisaded village not far from 
Port Royal, and here were mustered some four hundred 
of his warriors for a foray into the country of the Ar- 
mouchiquois, dwellers along the coasts of Massachusetts, 
New Hampshire, and Western Maine. In behalf of 



24<8 LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. [1G07 

this martial concourse he had proved himself a sturdy 
beggar, pursuing Poutrincourt with daily petitions, now 
for a bushel of beans, now for a basket of bread, and 
now for a barrel of wine to regale his greasy crew. 
Membertou's long life had not been one of repose. In 
deeds of blood and treachery he had no rival in the Aca- 
diar) forest ; and, as his old age was beset with enemies, 
his alliance with the French had a foundation of policy 
no less than of affection. For the rest, in right of his 
quality of Sagamore he claimed perfect equality both 
with Poutrincourt and with the King, laying his shriv- 
elled forefingers side by side in token of friendship be- 
tween peers. Calumny did not spare him ; and a rival 
chief intimated to the French, that, under cover of a war 
with the Armouchiquois, the crafty veteran meant to 
seize and plunder Port Royal. Precautions, therefore, 
were, taken; but they were seemingly needless; for, 
their feasts and dances over, the warriors launched their 
birchen flotilla and set forth. * After an absence of six 
weeks they reappeared with howls of victory, and their 
exploits were commemorated in French verse by the 
muse of the indefatigable Lescarbot.^ 

With a heavy heart the latter bade farewell to the 
dwellings, the cornfields, the gardens, and all the dawn- 
ing prosperity of Port Royal, and sailed for Canseau in 
a small vessel on the thirtieth of July. Poutrincourt 
and Cham plain remained behind, for the former was 
resolved to learn before his departure the results of his 
agricultural labors. Reachins: a harbor on the south- 

1 See Muses de la Nouvelle France. 



1607.1 CHAEACTER OF TflE ENTERPRISE. 



24^9 



ern coast of Nova Scotia, six leagues west of Canseau, 
Lescarbot found a fishing-vessel commanded and owned 
by an old Basque, named Savalet, who for forty-two 
successive years had carried to France his annual cargo 
of codfish. He was in great glee at the success of his 
present venture, reckoning his profits at ten thousand 
francs. The Indians, however, annoyed him beyond 
measure, boarding him from their canoes as his fishing- 
boats came along-side, and helping themselves at will to 
his halibut and cod. At Canseau — a harbor near the 
cape now bearing the name — the ship Jonas still lay, 
her hold well stored with fish ; and here, on the twenty- 
seventh of August, Lescarbot was rejoined by Poutrin- 
court and Champlain, who had come from Port Royal 
in an open boat. For a few days, they amused them- 
selves with gathering raspberries on the islands ; then 
they spread their sails for France, and early in October, 
I6O7, anchored in the harbor of St. Malo. 

First of Europeans, they had essayed to found an 
agricultural colony in the New World. The leaders of 
the enterprise had acted less as merchants than as citi- 
zens ; and the fur-trading monopoly, odious in itself, had 
been used as the instrument of a large and generous 
design. There was a radical defect, however, in theii 
scheme of settlement. Excepting a few of the leaders 
those engaged in it had not chosen a home in the wiK 
derness of New France, but were mere hirelings, care- 
less of the welfare of the colony. The life which 
should have' pervaded all the members was confined to 
the heads alone. 



250 L.ESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. [1G07. 

Towards the fickle and bloodthirsty race who claimed 
the lordship of the forests these colonists bore them- 
selves in a spirit of kindness contrasting brightly with 
the rapacious cruelty of the Spaniards and the harsh- 
ness of the English settlers. When the last boat-load 
left Port Royal, the shore resounded with lamentation ; 
and nothing could console the afflicted savages but 
reiterated promises of a speedy return. 



CHAPTER V. 

1610, 1611. 
THE JESUITS AND THEIR PATRONESS. 

POUTRINCODET AND THE JESUITS. — He SAILS FOR ACADIA. — SUDDES 
Co>JVKRSIONS. — BlENCOURT. — DeATH OF THE KiNG. — MaDAME DB 
GUEKCHEVILLE. — BlAKD AKD MaSSE. — ThE JesUITS TRIUMPHANT. 

PouTRiNCOURT, we have seen, owned Port Royal 
in virtue of a grant from De Monts. The ardent and 
adventurous baron was in evil case, involved in litiga- 
tion and low in purse ; but nothing' could damp his 
zeal. x\cadia must become a new France, and he, 
Poutrincourt, must be its father. He gained from the 
King a confirmation of his grant, and, to supply the 
lack of his own weakened resources, associated with 
himself one Robin, a man of family and wealth. This 
did not save him from a host of delays and vexations ; 
and it was not until the spring of 1610 that he found 
himself in a condition to embark on his new and doubt- 
ful venture. 

Meanwhile an influence, of sinister omen as he 
thought, had begun to act upon his schemes. The 
Jesuits were potent at court. One of their number, 
the famous Father Cotton, was confessor to Henry the 
Fourth, and, on matters of this world as of the next, 
was ever whispering at the facile ear of the renegade 
King. New France offered a fresh field of action to 



252 . THE JESUITS AND THEIR PATRONESS. [1(310. 

the indefatigable society of Jesus, and Cotton urged 
upon the royal convert, that, for the saving of souls, 
some of its members should be attached to the pro- 
posed enterprise. The King, profoundly indifferent 
ill matters of religion, saw no evil in a proposal 
which at least promised to place the Atlantic betwixt 
him and some of those busy friends whom at heart he 
deeply mistrusted.^ Other influences, too, seconded the 
confessor. Devout ladies of the court, and the Queen 
herself, supplying the lack of virtue with an overflow- 
ing piety, burned, we are assured, with a holy zeal for 
snatching the tribes of the West from the bondage of 
Satan. Therefore it was insisted that the projected 
colony should combine the spiritual with the tempora. 
character, or, in other vi^ords, that Poutrincourt should 
take Jesuits with him, Pierre Biard, Professor of 
Theology at Lyons, was named for the mission, and 
repaired in haste to Bordeaux, the port of embarkation, 
where he found no vessel, and no sign of preparation ; 
and here, in wrath and discomfiture, he remained for 
a whole year. 

That Poutrincourt was a good Catholic appears 
from a letter to the Pope, written for him in Latin by 
Lescarbot, asking a blessing on his enterpiise, and as- 
suring His Holiness that one of his grand objects was 
the saving of souls.^ But, like other good citizens, he 
belonged to the national party in the Church, those 

1 The missionary Biard makes the characteristic assertion, that the 
King initiated tlio Jesuit project, and tliat Fatlier Cotton merely obeyed 
his orders. Biard, Relation, c. XI. 

2 See Lescarbot, (1618,) G05. 



1610.1 JL'HE JESUITS DISAPPOINTED. £53 

liberal Catholics, who, side by side with the Huguenots, 
had made head against the League with its Spanish 
allies, and placed Henry the Fourth upon the throne. 
The Jesuits, an order Spanish in origin and policy, 
redoubtable champions of ultramontane principles, the 
sword and shield of the Papacy in its broadest preten- 
sions to spiritual and temporal sway, were to him, as to 
others of his party, objects of deep dislike and distrust. 
He feared them in his colony, evaded what he dared not 
refuse, left Biard waiting in solitude at Bordeaux, and 
sought to postpone the evil day by assuring Father 
Cotton, that, though Port Royal was at present in no 
state to receive the missionaries, preparation should be 
made to entertain them the next year after a befitting 
fashion. 

Poutrincourt ovAmed the barony of St. Just in Cham- 
pagne, inherited a few years before from his mother. 
Hence, early in February, 1610, he set forth in a boat 
loaded to the gunwales with provisions, furniture, goods, 
and munitions for Port Royal, descended the Rivers 
Aube and Seine, and reached Dieppe safely with his 
charge.^ Here his ship was awaiting him ; and on the 
twenty-sixth of February he set sail, giving the slip to 
the indignant Jesuit at Bordeaux. 

The tedium of a long passage was unpleasajitly 
broken by a mutiny among the crew. It was sup- 
pressed, however, and Poutrincourt entered at length 
the familiar basin of Port Royal. The buildings were 

^ Lescarbot, Relation Derniere, 6. Tliis is a pamplilet of thirty - nine 
p.nges, containing matters not included in the larger work. 
22 



£5i ^'HE JESUITS AND THEIR PATEONESS. [IfilO 

Still Standing, whole and sound save a partial falling-in 
of the roofs. Even furniture v^^as found untouched in 
the deserted chambers. The centenarian Membertou 
was still alive, his leathern, wrinkled visage beaming 
with welcome. 

Poutrincourt set himself without delay to the task 
of Christianizing New France, in an access of zeal 
which his desire of proving that Jesuit aid was super- 
fluous may be supposed largely to have reinforced. He 
had a priest with him, one La Fleche, whom he urged 
to the pious work. No time was lost. Membertou first 
was catechised, confessed his sins, and renounced the 
Devil, whom we are told he had faithfully served during 
a hundred and ten years. His squaws, his children, his 
grandchildren, his entire clan, were next won over. It 
was in June, the day of St. John the Baptist, when the 
naked proselytes, twenty-one in number, were gathered 
on the shore at Port Royal. Here was the priest in 
the vestments of his office ; here were gentlemen in gay 
attire, soldiers, laborers, lackeys, all the infant colony. 
The converts kneeled ; the sacred rite was finished, 
Te Deum was sung, and the roar of cannon proclaimed 
to the astonished wilderness this triumph over the pow- 
ers of darkness.^ Membertou was named Henri, after 
the King ; his principal squaw, Marie, after the Queen. 
One of his sons received the name of the Pope, an- 
other that of the Dauphin ; his daughter was called 
Marguerite, after the divorced Marguerite de Valois, 
and, in like manner, the rest of the squalid company 

1 Lescarbot, Relation Derniere, 11. 



i610.] INDIAN PROSELYTES. C^^^ 

exchanged their barbaric appellatives for the names of 
princes, nobles, and ladies of rank.-^ 

The fame of this chef-d'' oeuvre of Christian piety, as 
Lescarbot gravely calls it, spread far and wide through 
the forest, whose denizens, partly out of a notion that 
the rite would bring good luck, partly to please the 
French, and partly to share in the good cheer with 
which the apostolic efforts of Father la Fleche had been 
sagaciously seconded, came flocking to enroll themselves 
under the banners of the Faith. Their zeal ran high. 
They would t£[ke no refusal. Membertou was for war 
on all who would not turn Christian. A living skele- 
ton was seen crawling from hut to hut in search of the 
priest and his saving waters ; while another neophyte, 
at the point of death, asked anxiously whether, in the 
realms of bliss to which he was bound, pies were to be 
had comparable to those with which the French regaled 
him. 

A formal register of baptisms was drawn up to be 
carried to France in the returning ship, of which Pou- 
trincourt's son, Bie'ncourt, a spirited youth of eighteen, 
was to take charge. He sailed in July, his father keep- 
ing him company as far as Port la Heve, whence, bid- 
ding the young man farewell, he attempted to return in 
an open boat to Port Royal. A north wind blew him 
out to sea ; and for six days he was out of sight of 
land, subsisting on rain-water wrung from the boat's 
sail, and on a few wild-fowl which he had shot on an 
island. Five weeks passed before he could rejoin his 

1 Ii€gitre de Bapleme de VEglise du Port Royal en la Nouvelle France. 



£56 THE JESUITS AND THEIR PATRONESS. [IGIO. 

colonists, who, despairing of his safety, were about to 
choose a new chief. 

Meanwhile young Biencourt, speeding on his way, 
heard dire news from a fisherman on the Grand Bank. 
The knife of Ravaillac had done its work. Henry the 
Fourth was dead. 

There is an ancient street in Paris, where a great 
thoroughfare contracts to a narrow pass, the Rue de la 
Ferronnerie. Tall buildings overshadow it, packed 
from pavement to tiles with human life, and from the 
dingy front of one of them the sculptured head of a 
man looks down on the throng that ceaselessly defiles 
beneath. On the fourteenth of May, 1610, a ponderous 
coach, studded with fleurs-de-lis and rich with gilding, 
rolled along this street. In it was a small man, well 
advanced in life, whose profile once seen could not be 
forgotten : a hooked nose, a protruding chin, a brow 
full of wrinkles, grizzled hair, a short, grizzled beard, 
and stiff, gray moustaches, bristling like a cat's. One 
would have thought him some whiskered satyr, grim 
from the rack of tumultuous years ; but his alert, up- 
right port bespoke unshaken vigor, and his clear eye 
was full of buoyant life. Following on the foot-way 
strode a tall, strong, and somewhat corpulent man, with 
sinister, deep-set eyes, and a red beard, his arm and 
shoulder covered with his cloak. In the throat of the 
thoroughfare, where the sculptured image of Henry 
the Fourth still guards the spot, a collision of two carts 
stopped the coach. Ravaillac quickened his pace. In 
an instant he was at the door; his cloak was dropped ; 



[01 O.J SINISTER OMENS. ^W 

a long knife was in his hand ; his foot upon a guard- 
stone, he tlirust his head and shoulders into the coach, 
and with frantic force stabbed thrice at the King's 
heart. A broken exclamation, a gasping convulsion : 
then the grim visage drooped on the bleeding breast. 
Henry bi-eathed his last, and the hope of Europe died t 
with liim. 

The omens were sinister for old France and for New. 
Marie de Medicis, " cetie grosse lanquiere" coarse 
scion of a bad stock, false wife and faithless queen, par- 
amour of an intriguing foreigner, tool of the Jesuits 
and of Spain, was Regent in the minority of her imbe- 
cile son. The Huguenots drooped, the national party 
collapsed, the vigorous hand of Sully was felt no more, 
and the treasure gathered for a vast and beneficent en- 
terprise became the instrument of despotism and the 
prey of corruption. Under such dark auspices, the 
stripling envoy entered the thronged chambers of the 
Louvre. 

He gained audience of the Queen, and displayed his 
list of baptisms; w^hile the ever present Jesuits failed 
not to seize him by the button,-^ assuring him not onlv 
that the late King had deeply at heart the establishment 
of their Society in Acadia, but that to this end he had 
made them a grant of two thousand livres a year. The 
Jesuits had found an ally and the intended mission a 
friend at court, whose story and whose character are too 
striking to pass unnoticed. 

^ Lescarbot, (1618,) 662: " . . . . ne manquerent de I'empoijner par Cea 
eheveux." 

22* 



238 -^'11^ JESUITS AND THEIR PATRONESS. [IGIO. 

This was a Lady of Honor to the Queen, Antoinette 
de Pons, Marquise de Giiercheville, once renowned for 
grace and beauty and not less conspicuous for qualities 
rare in the unbridled court of Henry's predecessor, 
where her youth had been passed. When the civil war 
was at its height, the royal heart, leaping with insatia- 
ble restlessness from battle to battle, from mistress to 
mistress, had found a brief repose in the affections of Ids 
Corisande, famed in tradition and romance ; but Cori- 
sande was suddenly abandoned, and the young widow, 
Madame de Guerchevjlle, became the loadstar of' his 
erratic fancy. It was an evil hour for the Bearnais. 
Henry sheathed in rusty steel, battling for his crown 
and his life, and Henry robed in royalty and throned 
triumphant in the Louvre, alike urged their suit in 
vain. Unused to defeat, the King's passion rose higher 
for the obstacle that barred it. On one occasion he 
was met with an answer not unworthy of record: — 

" Sire, my rank, per-haps, is not high enough to per- 
mit me to be your wife, but my heart is too high to 
permit me to be your mistress." ^ 

She left the court and retii'ed to her chateau of La 
Roche-Guyon, on the Seine, ten leagues below Paris, 
where, fond of magnificence, she is said to have lived 
in much expense and splendor. The indefatigable 
King, haunted by her memory, made a hunting-party 
in the neighboring forests ; and, as evening drew near, 

1 A similar reply is attributed to Catherine de Rohan, Duchesse de 
Deux-Ponts: "Je suis trop paiivre pour etre votre femnie, et de trop 
bonne niaison pour etre votre maitresse." Her suitor also was Henry 
the Fourth. Dictionnabe de Bai/le, III. 2182. 



1610.] MADAME DE GUERCHEVILLE. g^g 

separating himself from his courtiers, he sent a gentle- 
man of his train to ask of Madame cle Guerclieville the 
shelter of her roof. The reply conveyed a dntifuV ac- 
knowledgment of the honor, and an offer of the best 
entertainment within her power. It was night when 
Henry, with his little band of horsemen, approached the 
chateau, where lights were burning in every window, 
after a fashion of the day on occasions of welcome to 
an honored guest. Pages stood in the gate-way, each 
with a blazing torch ; and here, too, were gentlemen 
of the neighborhood, gathered to greet their sover- 
eign. Madame de Guercheville came forth, followed 
by the women of her household ; and when the King, 
unprepared for so benign a welcome, giddy with love 
and hope, saw her radiant in pearls and more radiant 
yet in a beauty enhanced by the wavy torchlight and 
the surrounding shadows, he scarcely dared trust his 
senses : — 

" Que vois-je, Madame ; est-ce bien vous, et suis-je 
ce roi meprise 1 " 

He gave her his hand, and she led him within the 
chateau, where, at the^ door of the apartment destined 
for him, she left him, with a graceful reverence. The 
King, nowise disconcerted, doubted not that she had 
gone to give orders for his entertainment, when an 
attendant came to tell him that she had descended to 
the court-yard and called for her coach. Thither he 
hastened in alarm : — 

" What ! am I driving you from your house 1 " 

" Sire," replied Madame de Guercheville, " where a 



QQQ THE JESUITS AND THEIR PATRONESS. [1610 

King- is, he should be the sole master; but, for my part, 
I like to preserve some little authority wherever I may 
be." 

With another deep reverence, she entered her coach 
and disappeared, seeking shelter under the roof of a 
friend, some two leagues off", and leaving the baffled 
King to such consolation as he might find in a magnifi- 
cent repast, bereft of the presence of the hostess.^ 

■^ M^moires de VAhbe de Choisy, liv. XII. The elaborate notices of Ma- 
dame de Guercheville in the Biocjrnpliie Ge'n^rale and the Biographie 
Universelle are from this source. She figures under the name of Sci- 
linde in FjES Amours du Grand Alcandre. (Henry IV.). See Collection Peti- 
tot, LXIII. 515, note, wliere the passage is extracted. 

Tlie Abbe de Choisy saj's tliat when the King was enamored of hei' 
she was married to M. de Liancourt. This, it seems, is a mistake, this 
second marriage not taking place till 1594. Madame de Guercheville 
refused to take the name of Liancourt, because it had once been borne by 
tlie Duchesse de Beaufort, who had done it no honor, — a scruple very 
reasonably characterized by her biographer as " trap affect€.'" 

The following is De Choisy's account : — 

" Enfin ce prince s'avisa un jour, pour derniere ressource, de faire une 
partie de chasse du cote de La Roche-Guyon ; et, sur la fin de la journee, 
s'etant separe' de la plupart de ses courtisans, il envoya un gentilhomme 
a La Roche - Guyon demander le couvert pour une nuit. Madame de 
Guercheville, sans s'embarrasser, repondit au gentilhomme, que le Roi 
lui feroit beaucoup d'honneur, et qu'elle le recevroit de son mieux. En 
efFet, elle donna ordre a un magnifique souper ; on eclaira toutes les fene- 
tres du chateau avec des torches (c'etoit la mode en ce temps-la) ; elle se 
para de ses plus beaux habits, se couvrit de perles (c'etoit aussi la mode) ; 
et lorsque le Roi arriva a I'entree de la nuit, elle alia le recevoir a la porte 
de sa maison, accompagnee de toutes ses femmes, et de quelques gentils- 
hommes du voisinage. Des pages portoient les torches devant elle. Le 
Roi, transporte de joie, la trouva plus belle que jamais : les ombres de la 
nuit, la lumiere des flambeaux, les diamans, la surprise d'un accueil si 
favorable et si peu aeeoutume, tout conti'ibuuit a renouveler ses aaciennes 
blessures. ' Que vols -je, madanie 1 ' lui dit ce monarque tremblant; 
' est - ce bien vous, et suis-je ce roi meprise ? ' Madame de Guerche- 
ville I'interrompit, en le priant de monter dans son appartement pour se 
reposer. II lui donna la main. Elle le conduisit jusqu'a la porte de 



1610. [ MADAME DE GUEKCHEVILLE. t£^j 

Henry could admire the virtue which he could not 
vanquish ; and, long after, on his marriage, he acknowl- 
edged his sense of her worth by begging her to accept 
an hojiorable post near the person of the Queen. 

" Madame," he said, presenting her to Marie de 
Medicis, " I give you a Lady of Honor who is a lady 
of honor indeed." 

Some twenty years had passed since the adventure 
of La Roche-Guyon. Madame de Guercheville had 
outlived the charms which had attracted her royal suitor, 
but the virtue which repelled him was reinforced by a 
devotion no less uncompromising. A rosary in her 
hand and a Jesuit at her side, she realized the utmost 
wishes of the subtle fathers who had moulded and who 
guided her. She readily took fire, when they told 
her of the benighted souls of New Franco, and the 
wrongs of Father Biard kindled her utmost indig- 
nation. She declared herself the protectress of the 
American missions ; and the only difficulty, as a Jesuit 
writer tells us, was to restrain her zeal within reasona- 
ble bounds.^ 

sa chambre, lui fit une grande reverence, et se retira. Le Roi ne s'en 
etonna pas ; il crut qu'elle vouloit aller donner ordre a la fete qu'elle lui 
preparoit. Mais il fut bien surpris quand on lui vint dire qu'elle etoit 
descendue dans sa cour, et qu'elle avoit crie tout liaut : Qu'on atlelle mon 
coche ! eonime pour aller coucher hors de cliez elle. 11 descendit aus- 
sitot, et tout e'perdu lui dit : ' Quoi ! niadame, je vous cliasserai de votre 
maison 1 ' — ' Sire,' lui repondit-elle d'un ton fernie,' ' un roi doit etre 
le raaitre partout ou il est ; et pour moi, je suis bien aise d'avoir quelque 
pouvoir dans les lieux oil je me trouve.' Et, sans vouloir I'e'couter 
davantage, elle monta dans son coche, et alia coucher a deux lieues de 
la chez une de ses amies." 
^ Charlevoix, I. 122. 



2Q2 THE JESUITS AND THEIR PATEONESS. [1(510. 

She had two illustrious coadjutors. The first was the 
jealous Queen, whose unbridled rage, and vulgar clamor 
had made the Louvre a hell. The second was Hen- 
riette d'Entrag-ues, Marquise de Verneuil, the crafty 
and capricious siren who had awakened these conjugal 
tempests. To this singular coalition were joined niany 
other ladies of the court ; for the pious flame, fanned by 
the Jesuits, spread through hall and boudoir, and fair 
votaries of the Loves and Graces found it a more grate- 
ful task to win heaven for the heathen than to merit it 
for themselves. 

Young Biencourt saw it vain to resist. Biard must 
go with him in the returning ship, and also another 
Jesuit, Enemond Masse. The two fathers repaired to 
Dieppe, wafted on the wind of court-favor, which thev 
never doubted would bear them to their journev's end. 
Not so, however. Poutrincourt and his associates, in 
the dearth of their own resources, had bargained with 
two Huguenot merchants of Dieppe, Du Jardin and 
Du Quesne, to equip and load the vessel, in considera- 
tion of their becoming partners in the expected prof- 
its. Their indignation was extreme when they saw the 
intended passengers. They declared, that they would 
not aid in building up a colony for the profit of the 
King of Spain, nor risk their money in a venture where 
Jesuits were allowed to intermeddle ; and they closed 
with a flat refusal to receive them on board, unless, 
they added with patriotic sarcasm, the Queen would 
direct them to transport the whole order bevond sea.^ 

1 Lescarbot, (1618,) 664. 



IGIL] THE JESUITS TRIUMPHANT, ^(^3 

Biard and Masse insisted, on which the merchants de- 
manded reimbursement for their outlay, as they would 
have no further concern in the business. 

Biard communicated with Father Cotton, Father 
Cotton with Madame de Guercheville. No more was 
needed. A subscription was set on foot by the zealous 
Lady of Honor, and an ample fund raised within the 
precincts of the court. Biard, in the name of the 
" Province of France of the Order of Jesus," bought 
out the interest of the two merchants for thirty-eight 
hundred livres, thus constituting the Jesuits partners in 
business with their enemies. Nor was this all ; for, out 
of the ample proceeds of the subscription, he lent to 
the needy associates a further sum of seven hundred 
and thirty -seven livres, and advanced twelve hundred 
and twenty-five more to complete the outfit of the ship. 
Well pleased, the triumphant priests now embarked, and 
friend and foe set sail together on the twenty-sixth of 
Jaimary, 1611.^ 

1 Lescarbot, (1618,) G65, gives the contract with the Jesuits in full. 
Compare Biard, Relation, c. XII; Chaniplain, (1632,) 100; Charlevoix, 
I. 123 ; De Laet, 1. II. c. XXI. ; Lettre da P. Pierre Biard au T. R. P. 
Claude A(/uaoiua, General de la Coiiipaynie de Jesus a Rome, Dieppe, 21 
Janrier, 1611 ; Lettre du P. Biard au R. P. Cliristophe Balthuzar, Provincial 
de France a Paris, Port Royal, 10 Jidn, 1611 ; Lettre da P. Biard an T. R. 
P. Claude Aqaaviva, Port Royal, 31 Janvier, 1612. These letters form 
part of an interesting collection recently published by 11. P. Auguste 
Carayon, S. J., under the title, Premiere Mission des J^suites au Canada, 
(Paris, ISOJ). They are taken from the Jesuit archives at Rome. 



CHAPTER VI. 

1611, 1612. 
JESUITS IN ACADIA. 

The Jesuits aeeive. — Collision of Powers Temporal and Spirituai* 
— Excursion of Biencouet. — Biard's Indian Studies. — Misery at 
Port Eoyal. — Grant to Madame de Guercheville. — Gilbert du 
Thet. — Quarrels. — Anathemas. — Truce. 

The voyage was one of inordinate length, — beset, 
too, with icebergs, larger and taller, according to the 
Jesuit voyagers, than the Church of Notre Dame ; but 
on the day of Pentecost they anchored before Port 
Royal. Then first were seen in the wilderness of New 
France the close black cap, the close, black robe of the 
Jesuit father, and the features seamed with study and 
thought and discipline. Then first did this mighty 
Proteus, this many-colored Society of Jesus, enter upon 
that rude field of toil and woe, where, in after-years, 
the devoted zeal of its apostles was to lend dignity to 
their order and do honor to humanity. 

Few were the regions of the known world to which 
the potent brotherhood had not stretched the vast net- 
work of its influence. Jesuits had disputed in theology 
with the bonzes of Japan, and taught astronomy to the 
mandarins of China ; had wrought prodigies of sudden 
conversion among the followers of Brahma, preached 
the papal supremacy to Abyssinian schismatics, carried 



1611.1 BIARD AND POUTRINCOURT. QQ^ 

the cross among the savages of CafFraria, wrought 
reputed miracles in Brazil, and gathered the tribes of 
Paraguay beneath their paternal sway. And now, 
with the aid of the Virgin and her votary at court, 
they would build another empire among the tribes of 
New France. The omens were sinister and the outset 
vi'as unpropitious. The Society was destined to reap 
few laurels from the brief apostleship of Biard and 
Masse.^ 

When the voyagers landed, they found at Port Royal 
a band of half-famished men, eagerly expecting their 
succor. The voyage of four months had, however, 
nearly exhausted their own very moderate stock of 
provisions, and the mutual congratulations of the old 
colonists and the new were damped by a vision of 
starvation. A friction, too, speedily declared itself be- 
tween the spiritual and the temporal powers. Pont- 
grave's son, then trading on the coast, had exasperated 
the Indians by an outrage on one of their women, and, 
dreading the wrath of Poutrincourt, had fled to the 
vi'oods. Biard saw fit to take his part, remonstrated 
for him with vehemence, gained his pardon, received 
his confession, and absolved him. The Jesuit says, 

1 On the tenth of June, 1611, Biard and Masse wrote the first letters 
ever sent by their order from New France. The letter of Masse is to 
Aquaviva, General of the Jesuits. " Je vous I'avoue," lie says, "j'ai dit 
alors franchement a Dieu : Me voici : Si vous choisissez ce qu'il y a de 
faible et de raeprisable dans ce nionde, pour renverser et de'truire ce qui 
est fort, vous trouverez tout cela dans Eneraond " (Masse). See the 
letter in Carayon, 39. Tiiere is an error of date in Biard's Relation, 
where he places the arrival on the twenty-second of June, instead of the 
twenty -second of May. 
23 



266 JESUITS IN ACADIA. [1611. 

that he was treated with great consideration by Pou- 
triiicourt, and that he shall be forever beholden to him. 
The latter, however, chafed at Biard's interference. 

" Father," he said, " I know my duty, and I beg- 
you will leave me to do it. I, with my sword, have 
hopes of Paradise as well as you with your breviary. 
Show me my path to Heaven. I will show you yours 
on earth." ^ 

He soon set sail for France, leaving his son Bien- 
court in charge. This ' hardy young sailor, of a char- 
acter and vigor beyond his years, had, on his visit to 
court, received the post of Vice- Admiral in the seas of 
New France, and in this capacity had a certain author- 
ity over the trading-vessels of St. Malo and Rochelle, 
several of which were upon the coast. To compel the 
recognition of this authority, and also to purchase pro- 
visions, he set forth in a boat filled with armed follow- 
ers. His first collision was w^ith young- Pontgrave, 
who with a few men had built a trading -hut on the 
St. John, where he proposed to winter. Meeting 
with resistance, Biencourt took the whole party pris- 
oners, in spite of the remonstrances of Biard. Next, 
proceeding along the coast, he levied tribute on four 
or five traders winterino- at St. Croix, and, continuins' 
his course to the Kennebec, narrowly escaped a fatal 
collision with the Indians of that region. He found 
them greatly enraged at the conduct of certain English 
adventurers, who, three or four years before, had set 

1 Lescarbot, (1618,) 669. Compare Biard, Relation, c. XIV. ; and lb, 
l^ttre au R. P. Cliristophe Balthazar, in Carayon, 9. 



1611.] MEMBERTOU. QQ^f 

dogs upon them, beaten them with sticks, and other- 
wise outraged them.-' 

It was late in November, and winter, dreary and 
bleak, was closing around the comfortless tenements of 
Port Royal, when the adventurers returned, after a 
voyage wellnigh bootless. Here they found Masse, a 
lonely hermit, half starved, in a wretched hut. He 
had tried a forest-life among the Indians, with signal 
ill success. Hard fare, smoke, filth, the scolding- of 
women, and the cries of children had reduced him to 
a lamentable plight of body and mind, worn him to 
a skeleton, and sent him back to Port Royal without a 
single convert. The French were on the point of los- 
ing a fast friend, and, as we are told, a devout Chris- 
tian, in the sagamore Membertou, who, reaching the 
settlement in a dying condition, was placed in Biard's 
bed, and attended by the two Jesuits. The old savage 
was as remarkable in person as in character, for he 
was bearded like a Frenchman. He insisted on being 
buried with his heathen forefathers, but, persuaded with 
much ado to forego a wish fatal to his salvation, slept 
at last in consecrated ground.^ 

1 Tliey must have been the colonists under Popham and Gilbert, who, 
in 1607 and 1608, made an abortive and disastrous attempt to settle at tlie 
mouth of the Kennebec. 

'^ " C^'a este le plus grand, renomme et redoute sauvage qui ayt este de 
memoire d'homme ; de rielie taillc, et plus hault et niembru que n'est 
I'ordinaire des antres, barbu comme un francovs," etc. — Leitre dn P. Biard 
au li. P. Provincial, Port Roijal, 31 Janvier, 1612, in Carayon, 44. Of the 
character of the Christianity he had imbibed under the instruction of 
Father la Fleche, Biard gives the following illustration. He, Biard, 
taught him to say the Lord's Prayer. At the petition, " Give us this day 
our daily bread," Membertou remarked, " But if I ask for nothing bu 
bread, I shall have no fish or moose-meat." Carayon, 27. 



1^58 JESUITS IN ACADIA. [1611. 

Biard set himself to the study of the Indian lan- 
guage, a hard and thorny path, on which he made small 
progress, and often went astray. Seated, pencil in 
hand, before some Indian squatting on the floor, whom 
with the bribe of a mouUly biscuit he had lured into the 
hut, he plied him with questions which the latter often 
neither would nor could answer. What was the Indian 
word for Faiths Hope, Charity, Bacrament, Baptism. 
EucliariBt, Trinitif, Incarnation ? The perplexed sav- 
age, willing to amuse himself, and impelled, as Biard 
thinks, by the Devil, gave him scurrilous and unseemly 
phrases as the equivalent of things holy, which, stu- 
diously incorporated into the father's Indian 'catechism, 
produced on his pupils an effect the revei"se of that 
intended.^ 

The dark months wore slowly on. A band of half- 
famished men gathered about the huge fires of their 
barn-like hall, moody, sullen, and quarrelsome. Dis- 
cord was here in the black robe of the Jesuit, in the 
brown capote of the rival trader. Tlie position of the 
wretched little colony may well provoke reflection. 
Here lay the shaggy continent, from Florida to the 
Pole, outstretched in savage slumber along the sea, the 
stern domain of Nature, or, to adopt the ready solution 
of the Jesuits, a realm of the Powers of Night, blasted 
beneath the sceptre of Hell. On the banks of James 

1 Biard says that Biencourt, " qui entend le sauvage le mieux de tous 
ceux qui sont icy, a pris d'un grand zele, et prend cliaque jour beaucoup 
de peine a nous servir de trucliement. Mais, ne syay comment, aussi tost 
qu'on vient a traitter de Dieu, il se sent le mesme que Moyse, I'esprit 
estonne', le gosier tary, et la langue nouee." — Lettre du P. Biard au R. P. 
Provincial " Paris. Port Roijal, 31 Janvier, 1612, in Car^.yon, '11. 



1612.] DISSENSION. ^gg 

River was a nest of woe-begone Englishmen, a handful 
of Dutch fur-traders at the mouth of the Hudson,^ 
and a few shiverino;- Frenchmen amongf the snow-drifts 
of Acadia ; while deep within the wild monotony of 
desolation, on the icy verge of the great northern river, 
the hand of Champlain upheld the fleur-de-lis on the 
rock of Quebec, and more than this ; — but of him 
and his deeds hereafter. These were the advance 
guard, the forlorn hope of civilization, messengers of 
promise to a desert continent. Yet, unconscious of 
their high function, not content with inevitable woes, 
they were rent by petty jealousies and miserable feuds, 
while each of these detached fragments of rival nation- 
alities, scarcely able to maintain its own wretched exist- 
ence on a few square miles, begrudged to the others 
the smallest share in a domain which all the nations of 
Europe could not have sufficed to fill. 

One evening, as the forlorn tenants of Port Royal 
sat together disconsolate, Biard was seized with a spirit 
of prophecy. He called upon Biencourt to serve out 
to the company present the little of wine that remained, 
— a proposal which met with high favor from the lat- 
ter, though apparently with but little from the youthful 
Vice-Admiral. The wine was ordered, however, and, 
as an unwonted cheer ran around the circle, the Jesuit 
announced that an inward voice told him how, within 
a month, they should see a ship from France. In 

^ It is not certain that the Dutch had any permanent trading-post here 
before 1613, when they had four houses at Manhattan. O'Callaghau. 
Hist. New Nelherland, I. 69. 

23* 



gyo JESUITS IN ACADIA. [1612. 

truth, they saw one within a week. On the twenty- 
third of January, 1612, arrived a small vessel laden 
with a moderate store of provisions and abundant seeds 
of future strife. 

This was the expected succor sent by Poutrincourt. 
A series of ruinous voyages had exhausted his resources; 
but should he leave his son and his companions to per- 
ish 1 His credit was gone ; his hopes were dashed ; 
yet assistance was profi'ered, and, in his extremity, he 
was forced to accept it. It came from Madame de 
Guercheville and her Jesuit advisers. She offered to 
buy the interest of a thousand crowns in the enterprise. 
The ill-omened succor could not be refused ; but this 
was not all. , The zealous Protectress of the Missions 
obtained from De Monts, whose fortunes, like those of 
Poutrincourt, had ebbed low, a transfer of all his claims 
to the lands of Acadia ; while the young King, Louis 
the Thirteenth, was persuaded to give her, in addition, a 
new grant of all the territory of North America, from 
the St. Lawrence to Florida. Thus did Madame de 
Guercheville, in other words, the Jesuits who used her 
name as a cover, become proprietors of the greater part 
of the future United States and British Provinces. 
The English colony of Virginia and the Dutch trading- 
houses of New York were included within the limits 
of this destined northern Paraguay, while Port Royal, 
the seigniory of the unfortunate Poutrincourt, was en- 
compassed, like a petty island, by the vast domain of 
the Society of Jesus. They could not deprive him of 
it, since his title had been confirmed by the late King, 



1612.] BIENCOURT AND THE PRIESTS. i2!71 

but they Mattered themselves, to borrow their own lan- 
guage, that he would be " confined as in a prison." ^ 
His grant, however, had been vaguely worded, and, 
while they held him restricted to an insignificant patch 
of earth, he claimed lordship over a wide and indefinite 
territory. Here was argument for endless strife. 
Other interests, too, were adverse. Poutrincourt, in 
his discouragement, had abandoned his plan of liberal 
colonization, and now thought of nothing but beaver- 
skins. He wished to make a trading-post; the Jes- 
uits wished to make a Mission. 

When the vessel anchored before Port Royal, Bien- 
court, with disgust and anger, saw another Jesuit landed 
at the^ pier. This was Gilbert du Thet, a lay-brother, 
versed in affairs of this world, who had come out as 
representative and administrator of Madame de Guer- 
cheville. Poutrincourt, also, had his agent on board; 
and, without the loss of a day, the two began to quarrel. 
A truce ensued ; then a smothered feud pervading the 
whole colony, and ending in a notable explosion. The 
Jesuits, chafing under the sway of Biencourt, had with- 
drawn without ceremony, and betaken themselves to the 
vessel, intending to sail for France. Biencourt, exas- 
perated at such a breach of discipline, and fearing their 
representations at court, ordered them to return, adding, 
that, since the Queen had commended them to his espe- 
cial care, he could not, in conscience, lose sight of them. 
The fathers, indignant, excommunicated him. On this, 
the sagamore Louis, son of the grisly convert Member- 

1 Biard, Relation, c. XIX. 



g^£ JESUITS IN ACADIA. [1612, 

tou, begged leave to kill them; but Biencourt would 
not countenance this summary mode of relieving' his 
embarrassment. He again, in the King's name, or- 
dered the clerical mutineers to return to the fort. 
Biard declared that he would not, threatened to excom- 
municate any who should lay hand on him, and called 
the Vice- Admiral a robber. His wrath, however, soon 
cooled ; he yielded to necessity, and came quietly ashore, 
where, for the next three months, neither he nor his 
colleagues would say mass, or perform any office of 
religion.^ At length a change came over him ; he 
made advances of peace, prayed that the past might 
be forgotten, said mass again, and closed with a peti- 
tion that Brother du Thet might be allowed to go to 
France in a trading-vessel then on the coast. His peti- 
tion granted, he wrote to Poutrincourt a letter over- 
flowing with praises of his son ; and, charged with this 
missive, Du Thet set sail. 

1 Lescarbot, (1618,) 676. Biard passes over the affair in silence. In 
his letters (see Carayon) prior to this time, he speaks favorably both of 
Biencourt and Poutrincourt. 



CHAPTER VII. 

1613. 

SAUSSAYE. ARGALL. 

Voyage of Saussaye. — Mount Desert. — Argall attacks the Fremch. 
— Death of Du Thet. — St. Savior destroyed. 

Pending these squabbles, the Jesuits at home were 
far from idle. Bent on ridding themselves of Poutrin- 
court, they seized, in satisfaction of debts due them, all 
the cargo of his returning vessel, and involved him in 
a network of litigation. If we adopt his own state- 
ments in a letter to his friend Lescarbot, he was out- 
rageously misused, and, indeed, defrauded, by his co- 
partners, who at length had him thrown into prison.^ 
Here, exasperated, weary, sick of' Acadia, and anxious 
for the wretched exiles who looked to him for succor, 
the unfortunate man fell ill. Regaining his liberty, he 
again addressed himself, with what strength remained, 
to the forlorn task of sending relief to his son and his 
comrades. 

Scarcely had Brother Gilbert du Thet arrived in 
France, when Madame de Guercheville and her Jes- 
uits, strong in court-favor, strong in the charity of 
wealthy penitents, prepared to take possession of their 
empire beyond sea. Contributions were aslced, and 
1 See the letter, in Lescarbot, (1618,) 678» . 



£'74< SAUSSAYE. — ARGALL. [1613 

not in vain ; for the sagacious fathers, mindful of every 
spring- of influence, had deeply studied the mazes of 
felninine psychology, and then, as now, were favorite 
confessors of the fair. It was on the twelfth of March, 
1613, that the " MayfloAver " of the Jesuits sailed from 
Honfleur for the shores of New England. She was a 
small craft of a hundred tons, bearing forty-eight sail- 
ors and colonists, including- two Jesuits, Father Quen- 
tin and Du Thet. She carried horses, too, and goats, 
and was abundantly stored with all things needful by 
the pious munificence of her patrons. A courtier 
named Saussaye commanded her, and, as she winged 
her way across the Atlantic, benedictions hovered over 
her from lordly halls and perfumed chambers. 

On the sixteenth of May, Saussaye touched at La 
Heve, where he heard mass, planted a cross, and dis- 
played the scutcheon of Madame de Guercheville. 
Thence, passing on to Port Royal, he found Biard, 
Masse, their servant-boy, an apothecary, and one man 
beside. Biencourt and his followers were scattered 
about the woods and shores, digging ground-nuts,^ 
catching alewives in the brooks, and by similar expe- 
dients sustaining their miserable existence. Taking 
the two Jesuits on board, the voyagers steered for the 
Penobscot. A fog rose upon the sea. They sailed to 
and fro, groping their way in blindness, straining their 

1 The tuberous roots of Glycine apios, a beautiful climbing plant, with 
clusters of fragrant jjurple flowers, often a conspicuous ornament of New- 
England road-sides. Tlie tubers, resembling small potatoes, are strung 
together by a connecting fibre. The Jesuits comjiared them to a ro- 
sary. 



1613.] MOUNT DESERT. gy^ 

eyes through the mist, and trembling each instant lest 
they should descry the black outline of some deadly 
reef and the ghostly death-dance of the breakers. But 
Heaven heard their prayers. At night they could see 
the stars.^ The sun rose resplendent on a laugliing 
sea, and his morning beams streamed fair and full on 
the wild heights of the Island of Mount Desert. Ab- 
rupt and sheer, they towered above the waves : walls 
of sheeted granite, ramparts and bastions begrimed 
with the war of elements, buttressed by ancient crags 
where the white surf broke ceaselessly, bristling with 
firs, and half wrapped in ragged woods. The ship 
bore on before a favoring wind, foam spouting beneath 
her bows as she entered Frenchman's Bay, where 
dome -like islands rose, green with forests and gray 
with jutting rocks, while restless waves sparkled and 
danced between. 

Saussaye anchored in a harbor on the east side of 
Mount Desert. The jet-black shade betwixt crags and 
sea, the pines along the cliff, pencilled against the fiery 
sunset, the dreamy slumber of distant mountains bathed 
in shadowy purple, — such is the scene that in this our 
day greets the wandering artist, the roving collegian 
bivouacked on the shore, or the pilgrim from stifled 
cities renewing his jaded strength in the mighty life of 

1 " Suruint en mer vne si espaisse brume, que nous n'y voyons pas plus 
de iour que de nuict. Nous apprehendions grandement ce danger, parce 
qu'en ce'teudroict, ily a beaucoup de brisansetrocliers .... Desabonte, 
Dieu nous exauya, car le soir mesnie nous commen^asmes a voir les 
estoiles, et le matin les broue'es se dissiperent; nous nous reconnusmes 
estre au deuant des Monts deserts." — Biard, Relation, c. XXIII. 



£^6 SAUSSAYE. — ARGALL. [1G13. 

Nature. Perhaps they then greeted the adventurous 
Frenchman. Peace on the wilderness ; peace on the sea. 
Was there peace in this missionary bark, pioneer of 
Christianity and civilization "? Far from it. A rabble 
of angry sailors clamored on her deck, ready to mutiny 
over the terms of their eno^ag-ement. Should the time 
of their stay be reckoned from their landing at I^a 
Heve, or from their anchoring at Mount Desert ? 
Flory, the naval commander, took their part. Sailor, 
courtier, priest, gave tongue together in vociferous de- 
bate. Poutrincourt was far away, a ruined man ; and 
the intractable Vice -Admiral had ceased from troub- 
ling; yet not the less were the omens of the pious enter- 
prise sinister and dark. The company however, went 
ashore, raised a cross, heard mass, and named the place 
St. Savior.-^ 

At a distance in the woods they saw the signal-smoke 
of Indians, whom Biard lost no time in visiting. Some 
of them were from a village on the shore, three leagues 
westward. Always fond of the French, they urged 
the latter to go with them to their wigwams. The 
astute savages had learned already how to deal with a 
Jesuit. 

" Our great chief, Asticou, is there. He wishes for 
baptism. He is very sick. He will die unbaptized. 
He will burn in Hell, and it will be all your fault." 

1 Probably all Frenchman's Bay was included under the name of the 
Harbor of St. Sauveur. The landing-place so called seems to have been 
near the entrance of the bay, certainly south of Bar Harbor. The Indian 
name of the Island of Mount Desert was Pemetic. Its present name, as 
before ment'.oned, was given by Champlain. 



1G13.1 MOUNT DESERT. j^W 

This was enough. Biard embarked in a canoe, and 
they paddled him to the spot, where he found the great 
chief, Asticou, in his wigwam, with a heavy cold in the 
head. Disappointed of his charitable purpose, the 
priest consoled himself with observing the beauties of 
tlie neighboring shore, which seemed to him better fit- 
ted than St. Savior for the intended settlement. It was 
a gentle slope, descending to the sea, and covered with 
tall grass. It looked southeast upon a harbor where a 
fleet might ride at anchor, sheltered from the gales by 
a cluster of small islands.^ 

The ship was brought to the spot ; the colonists dis- 
embarked. First they planted a cross ; then they began 
their labors, and, with their labors, their quarrels. Saus- 
saye, zealous for agriculture, wished to break ground 
and raise crops immediately ; the rest opposed him, 
wishing first to be housed and fortified. This dispute 
begat others. Debate ran high, when, suddenly, all was 

1 Biard says that the place was only three leagues from St. Savior, and 
that he could go and return in an afternoon. He adds that it was " separe 
de la grande Isle des Monts Deserts." He was evidently mistaken in this. 
St. Savior being on the east side of Mount Desert, there is no place sepa- 
rated from it, and answering to his description, which he could have 
reached within the time mentioned. He no doubt crossed Mount Desert 
Sound, which, with Soames's Sound, nearly severs the island. The set- 
tlement must have been on the western side of Soames's vSound. Here, 
about a mile from the open sea, on the farm of Mr. Fernald, is a spot 
perfectly answering to the minute description of Biard: "Le terroir 
noir, gras, et fertile;" "la jolie colline esleuee doucement sur la raer, 
et baignec k ses costez de deux fontaines;" "les petites islettes qui 
rompent les flots et les vents." The situation is picturesque in the 
extreme. On the opposite, or eastern shore of the Sound, are founcj 
heaps of clam-shells and other indications of an Indian village, proba- 
bly that of Asticou. I am indebted to E. L. Hamlin, Esq., of Bangor, 
for pointing out this locality. 
24 



g'^8 SAUSSAYE. — ARGALL. [1618. 

harmony, and the disputants were friends once more in 
the pacification of a common danger. 

Far out at sea, beyond the islands that sheltered their 
harbor, they saw an approaching sail; and, as she drew 
near, strainnig their anxious eyes, they could descry the 
blood-red flags that streamed from her mast-head and 
her stern ; then the black muzzles of her cannon, — • 
they counted seven on a side ; then the throng of men 
upon her decks. The wind was brisk and fair ; all her 
sails were set ; she came on, writes a spectator, more 
swiftly than an arrow.^ 

Six years before, in 1 607, the ships of Captain New- 
port had conveyed to the banks of James River the first 
vital germ of English colonization on the continent. 
Noble and wealthy speculators, with Hispaniola, Mex- 
ico, and Peru for their inspiration, had combined to 
gather the fancied golden harvest of Virginia, received 
a charter from the crown, and taken possession of their 
El Dorado. From tavern, gaming-house, and brothel 
was drawn the staple of the colony, — ruined gentlemen, 
prodigal sons, disreputable retainers, debauched trades- 
men. Yet it would be foul slander to affirm that the 
founders of Virginia were all of this stamp ; for among 
the riotous crew were men of worth, and, high above 
them all, a hero disguised by the homeliest of names. 
Again and again, in direst woe and jeopardy, the inf\int 
settlement owed its life to the heart and hand of John 
Smith. 

^ " La nauire Anglois venoit plus viste q'un dard, a^yant le vent a sou- 
hait, tout pauis de rouge, les pauillons d'Aiigleterre flottans, et trois 
trompettes et deux tambours faisans rage de souuer." — Biard, Relation, 
c XXV. 



1G13.1 SAMUEL ARGALL. g^VC) 

Several years bad elapsed since Newport's voyage ; 
and the colony, depleted by famine, disease, and an In- 
dian war, had been recruited by fresh emigration, when 
one Samuel Argall arrived at Jamestown, captain of an 
illicit trading- vessel. He was a man of ability and 
force, — one of those compounds of craft and daring in 
which the age was fruitful ; for the rest, unscrupulous 
and grasping. In the spring of 1613 he achieved a 
characteristic exploit, the abduction of Pocahontas, that 
most interesting of young squaws, or, to borrow the 
style of the day, of Indian princesses. Sailing up the 
Potomac, he lured her on board his ship ; then, with 
inffimous treachery, he carried off the benefactress and 
savior of the colony a prisoner to Jamestown. Here 
a young man of fiimily, Rolfe, became enamored of 
her, married her with more than ordinary ceremony, 
and thus secured a firm alliance between her tribesmen 
and the Eng-lish. 

Meanwhile Argall had set forth on another enter- 
prise. With a ship of one hundred and thirty tons, 
carrying fourteen guns and sixty men, he sailed in May 
for islands off the coast of Maine to fish for cod.^ 
Thick fogs involved him ; and, when the weather 
cleared, he found himself not far from the Bay of Pe- 
nobscot. Canoes came out from shore ; the Indians 
climbed the ship's side, and, as they gained the deck, 
greeted the astonished English with an odd panto- 
mime of bows and flourishes, which, in the belief of the 
latter, could have been learned from none but French- 

1 Letter of Argall to Nicholas Hawes, June, 1613, in Purchas, IV. 1764. 



28Q SADSSAYE. — ARGALL. [1613. 

nien.^ By signs, too, and by often repeating the word 
Norman^ — by which they always designated the French, 
— they betrayed the presence of the latter. Argall, 
eager as a hound on the scent, questioned them as well 
as his total ignorance of their language would permit. 
He learned, by signs, the position and numbers of the 
colonists. Clearly they were no match for him. Assur- 
inof the Indians that the Normans were his friends and 
that he longed to see them, he retained one of the vis- 
itors as a guide, dismissed the rest with presents, and 
shaped his course for Mount Desert.^ 

Now the wild heights rose in view ; now the Eng- 
lish could see the masts of a small ship anchored in the 
bay ; and now, as they rounded the islands, four white 
tents were visible on the grassy slope between the water 
and the woods. They were a gift from the Queen to 
Madame de Guercheville and her missionaries. Ar- 
gall's pirates prepared for fight, while their Indian 
guide, amazed, broke into a howl of lamentation. 

On shore all was confusion. The pilot went to 
reconnoitre, and ended by hiding among the islands. 
Saussaye lost presence of mind, and did nothing for 
defence. La Motte, his lieutenant, with an ensign, a 
sergeant, the Jesuit Du Thet, and a few of the bravest 
men, hastened on board the vessel, but had no time to 



1 " . . . . et aux ceremonies que les sauvages faisoient pour leur coni' 
plaire. ils recognoissoient que u'e'toient ceremonies de courtoisie et ciuili- 
tez fran(,'oises." — Bianl, Relation, c. XXV. 

^ Holmes, American Annals, by a misappreliension of Cliamplain's nar- 
rative, represents Argall as liaving a s«[uadron of eleven ships. He cer- 
tainly had but one. 



1613.J ARGALL ATTACKS THE FRENCH. QSl 

cast loose her cables. Argall bore down on them, with 
a furious din of drums and trumpets, showed his broad- 
side, and replied to their hail with a volley of cannon 
and musket shot. " Fire ! Fire ! " screamed the French 
captain, Flory. But there was no gunner to obey, till 
the Jesuit Du Thet seized and applied the match. " The 
cannon made as much noise as the enemy's," writes his 
colleague ; but, as the inexperienced artillerist forgot to 
aim the piece, no other result ensued. Another storm 
of musketry, and Brother Gilbert du Thet rolled help- 
less on the deck. The French ship was mute. The 
English plied her for a time with shot, then lowered a 
boat and boarded. Under the awnings which covered 
her, dead and wounded men lay strewn about her 
deck, and among them the brave priest, smothering in 
his blood. He had his wish ; for, on leaving France, 
he had prayed with uplifted hands that he might not 
return, but perish in that holy enterprise. Like the 
Order of which he was a member, he was a compound 
of qualities in appearance contradictory. La Motte, 
sword in hand, showed fight to the last, and won the 
esteem of his captors. 

The English landed without meeting any show of 
resistance, and ranged at will among the tents, the piles 
of baggage and stores, and the buildings and defences 
newly begun. Argall asked for the commander, but 
Saussaye had fled to the woods. The crafty English- 
man seized his trunks, caused the locks to be picked, 
searched till he found the royal letters and commissions, 
withdrew them, replaced everything else as he had 

24* 



g8£ SAUSSAYE. - AEGALL. [1013. 

found it, and again closed the lids. In the morning, 
Saussaye, betwixt the English and starvation, preferred 
the former, and issued from his hiding-place. Argall 
received him with studious courtesy. That country, 
he said, belonged to his master, King James. Doubt- 
less they had authority from their own sovereign for 
thus encroaching upon it ; and, for his part, he was pre- 
pared to yield all respect to the commissions of the 
King of France, that the peace between the two nations 
might not be disturbed. Therefore he prayed that the 
commissions might be shown to him. Saussaye opened 
his trunks. The royal signature was nowhere to, be 
found. At this, Argall's courtesy was changed to 
wrath. He denounced the Frenchmen as robbers and 
pirates who deserved the gallows, removed their , prop- 
erty on board his ship, and spent the afternoon in divid- 
ing it among his followers. The French, disconsolate, 
remained on the scene of their woes, where the greedy 
sailors as they came ashore would snatch from them, 
now a cloak, now a hat, now a doublet, till the unfor- 
tunate colonists were left half naked. In other re- 
spects the English treated their captives well, — except 
two of them, whom they flogged ; and Argall, uhom 
Biard, after recounting his knavery, calls " a gentle- 
man of noble courage," having gained his point, re- 
turned to liis former courtesy. 

But how to dispose of the prisoners 1 Fifteen of 
them, including Saussaye and the Jesuit Masse, were 
turned adrift in an open boat, at the mercy of the wil- 
derness and the sea. Nearly all were landsmen ; but 



1613.] RETURN TO FEANCE. Q^g 

while their unpractised hands were strugghng with the 
oars, they were joined among the islands hy the fugitive 
pilot and his boat's crew. Worn and half starved, the 
united hands made their perilous way eastward, stopping 
from time to time to hear mass, make a procession, or 
catch codfish. Thus sustained in the spirit and in the 
flesh, cheered too by the Indians, who proved fast 
friends in need, they crossed the Bay of Fundy, doubled 
Cape Sable, and followed the southern coast of Nova 
Scotia, till they happily fell in with two French trading- 
vessels, which bore them in safety to St. Malo. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

1613 — 1615. 
RUIN OF FRENCH ACADIA. 

The Jesutts at Jamestown. — Wkath of Sir Thomas Dale. — A New 
Expedition. — Poet Royal demolished. — Equivocal Posture of 
THE Jesuits.. — Their Adventures. — The French will not aban- 
don Acadia. 

" Praised be God, behold two thirds of our com- 
pany safe in France, telling their strange adventures to 
their relations and friends. And now you will wish to 
know what befell the rest of us." ^ Thus writes Father 
Biard, who, with his companions in misfortune, four- 
teen in all, prisoners on board Argall's ship and the 
prize, were borne captive to Virginia. Old Point Com- 
fort was reached at length, the site of Fortress Mon- 
roe ; Hampton Roads, renowned in our day for the 
sea-fight of the Titans ; Sewell's Point ; the Rip Raps; 
Newport News ; — all household words in the ears of 
this generation. Now, far on their right, buried in the 
damp sliade of immemorial verdure, lay, untrodden and 
voiceless, those fields of future fame where stretched 
the leaguering lines of Washington, where the lilies 
of France floated beside the banners of the new-born 

1 "Dieu soit beny. Voyla ja les deux tiers de nostre troupe reconduicts 
en France sains et sauues parray leurs parents et amis, qui les oycnt con- 
ter leurs grandes aventures. Ores consequemment vous desirez sijauoir 
ce qui deuiendra I'autre tiers." — Biard, Relation, c. XXVIII. 



1613.] THE TVEATH OF SIR THOMAS DALE. ^35 

Republic, and where, in later years, embattled treason 
confronted the manhood of an outraged nation. And 
now before them they could descry the masts of small 
craft at anchor, a cluster of rude dwellings fresh from 
the axe, scattered tenements, and fields green with to- 
bacco. 

Throughout the voyage the prisoners had been 
soothed with flattering tales of the benignity of the 
Governor of Virginia, Sir Thomas Dale, his love of 
the French, and his respect for the memory of Henry 
the Fourth, to whom, they were told, he was much 
beholden for countenance and favor. On their landing 
at Jamestown, this consoling picture was reversed. The 
indignant governor fumed and blustered, talked of halter 
and gallows, and declared that he would hang them all. 
In vain Argall remonstrated, urging that he- had pledged 
his word for their lives. Dale, outraged by their inva- 
sion of British territory, was deaf to all appeals ; when 
Argall, driven to extremity, displayed the stolen com- 
missions, and proclaimed his stratagem, of which the 
French themselves had to that moment been ignorant. 
As they were accredited by their government, their 
lives at least were safe. Yet the wrath of Sir Thomas 
Dale still burned high. He summoned his council, 
and they resolved promptly to wipe off all stain of 
French intrusion from shores which King James claimed 
as his own. 

Their action was utterly unauthorized. The two 
kingdoms were at peace. James the First, by the 
patents of 1606, had granted all North America, from 



^35 EUIN OF FRENCH ACADIA. [1613. 

the thirty-fourth to the forty-fifth degree of latitude, to 
the two companies of London and Plymouth, Virginia 
being assigned to the former, while to the latter were 
given Maine and Acadia, with adjacent regions. Over 
these, though as yet the claimants had not taken 
possession of them, the authorities of Virginia had 
no color of jurisdiction. England claimed all North 
America, in virtue of the discovery of Cabot; and Sir 
Thomas Dale became the self-constituted champion of 
British rights, not the less zealous that his champion- 
ship promised a harvest of booty. 

Argall's ship, the captured ship of Saussaye, and 
another smaller vessel, were at once equipped and de- 
spatched on their errand of havoc. Argall commanded; 
and Biard, with Quentin and several others of the pris- 
oners, were embarked with him.-^ They shaped their 
course first for Mount Desert. Here they landed, lev- 
elled Saussaye's unfinished defences, cut down the 
French cross, and planted one of their own in its place. 
Next they sought out the island of St. Croix, seized a 
quantity of salt, and razed to the ground all that re- 
mained of the dilapidated buildings of De Monts. 
They crossed the Bay of Fundy to Port Royal, guided, 
says Biard, by an Indian chief, — an improbable asser- 
tion, since the natives of these coasts hated the Eng- 
lish as much as they loved the French, and now well 
knew the designs of the former. The unfortunate set- 

1 In his Relation, Biard does not explain the reason of his accompany- 
ing the expedition. In his letter to the General of the Jesuits, dated 
Amiens, 26 May, 1G14, (Carayon,) he says that it was " dans Ic dessein de 
profiter de la premiere occasion qui se rencontrerait, pour nous renvoyer 
dans notrr patr'e " 



1613.1 THE ENGLISH AT PORT ROYAL. 



287 



tleuient was tenantless. Biencourt, with some of his 
men, was on a visit to neighboring bands of Indians, 
while the rest were reaping in the fields on the river 
two leaoues above the fort. Succor from Poutrincourt 
had arrived during" the summer. The magazifies were 
by no means empty, and there were cattle, horses, and 
hogs in adjacent fields and enclosures. Exulting at 
their good fortune, Argall's men butchered or carried 
off the animals, ransacked the buildings, plundered 
them even to the locks and bolts of the doors ; then 
laid the whole in ashes ; " and may it please the Lord," 
adds the pious Biard, " that the sins therein committed 
may likewise have been consumed in that burning." 

Port Royal demolished, the marauders went in boats 
up the river to the fields where the reapers were at 
work. These fled, and took refuge behind the ridge 
of a hill, whence they gazed helplessly on the destruc- 
tion of their harvest. Biard approached them, and, 
according to the declaration of Poutrincourt made and 
attested before the Admiralty of Guienne, tried to per- 
• suade them to desert his son, Biencourt, and take ser- 
vice with Argall. The reply of one of the men gave 
little encouragement for further parley : — 

" Begone, or I will split your head with this hatchet." 
There is flat contradiction here between the narrative 
of the Jesuit and those of Poutrincourt and contem- 
porary English writers, who agree in affirming that 
Biard, " out of indigestible malice that he had conceived 
against Biencourt," ^ encouraged the attack on the set- 

1 Briefe Intelligence from Virginia by Letters. See Purchas, IV. 1808. 



288 ^UIN OF FRENCH ACADIA. [1G13. 

dements of St. Croix and Port Royal, and guided the 
English thither. The priest himself admits that both 
French and English regarded him as a traitor, and that 
his life was in danger. While Argall's ship was at 
anchor, a Frenchman shouted to the English from a 
distance that they would do well to kill him. The mas- 
ter of the ship, a Puritan, in his abomination of priests 
and above all of Jesuits, was at the same time urging 
his commander to set Biard ashore and leave him to 
the mercy of his countrymen. In this pass, he was 
saved, to adopt his own account, by what he calls his sim- 
plicity ; for he tells us, that, while — instigated, like the 
rest of his enemies, by the Devil — the robber and the 
robbed were joining hands to ruin him, he was on his 
knees before Argall, begging him to take pity on the 
French, and leave them a boat, together with provisions 
to sustain their miserable lives through the winter. 
This spectacle of charity, he further says, so moved the 
noble heart of the commander, that he closed his ears 
to all the promptings of foreign and domestic malice.-^ 

Compare Poutrincourt's letter to Lescarbot, in Lescarbot, (1618,) 684. 
Also, PlaiiUe da Sieur de Poutrincourt decant le Juge de V Admiraute de Guy- 
enne, Lescarbot, 687. 

1 " le ne S9ay qui secourut tant a propos le lesuite en ce danger que sa 
simplicite. Car tout de mesme que s'il eust este bien fauorise et qu'il 
eust pen beaucoup enuers ledit Anglois, il se niit a genoux deuant le 
Capitaine par deux diuerses fois et a deux diuei-ses occasions, a celle fin 
de le flechir a misericorde enuei's les Franqois du dit Port Royal esgares 
par les bois, et pour luy persuader de leur laisser quelques vuires, Inur 
chaloupe et quelqu'autre nioyen de passer I'hyuer. Et voyez combien 
differentes petitions on faisoit audit Capitaine : car au mesme temps que 
le P. Biard le supplioit ainsi pour les Franfois, vn Francois crioit de loin, 
avec outrages et iniurcs, qu'il le falloit massacrer. 

" Or Argal, qui est d'vn coeur noble, voyant ceste tant sincere affection 



IGin.] BIExNCOUUT AND THE ENGLISH. 



S89 



The English had scarcely reembarked, when Bien- 
court arrived with his followers, and beheld the scene 
of destruction. Hopelessly outnumbered, he tried to 
lure Argall and some of his officers into an ambuscade, 
but they would not be entrapped. Biencourt now 
asked for an interview. The word of honor was mu- 
tually given, and the two chiefs met in a meadow not 
far from the demolished dwellings. An anonymous 
English writer says that Biencourt offered to transfer 
his allegiance to King James, provided he was permitted 
to remain at Port Royal and carry on the fur - trade 
under a guaranty of English protection ; but that Ar- 
gall would not listen to his overtures.^ The interview 
proved a stormy one. Biard says that the Frenchman 
vomited against him every species of malignant abuse. 
" In the mean time," he adds, " you will considerately 
observe to what madness the evil spirit exciteth those 
who sell themselves to him."^ According to Poutrin- 
court, Argall admitted that the priest had urged him 
to attack Port Royal.^ Certain it is, that the young 
man demanded his surrender, frankly declaring that he 
meant to hang him. " Whilest they were discoursing 
together," says the old English writer above mentioned, 
" one of the savages rushing suddenly forth from the 

du lesuite, et de I'autre costc tant bestiale et enragee inhumanite de ce 
Franipois, laquelle nc recognoissoit 113' sa propre nation, nj' bien-faicts, ny 
religion, ny estoit dompte par I'affliction et verges de Dieu, estima," etc. — 
JMai'd, Relation, c. XXIX. He writes throughout in the third person. 

1 Briefe IntdHiience, Purohas, IV^. 1808. 

2 Biard, c. XXIX. : " Cependant vous remarquerez sagement msqu«?8 
& quelle rage le nialin esprit agite ceu.x qui se vendent a luy." 

^ Plainte dii Sieiu- de Poutrincourt, Lescarbot, (1618,) G89i 
25 



1290 ^UIN OF FRENCH ACADIA. [IGin 

Woods, and liceiitiated to come neere, did after his 
manner, with such broken French as he had, earnestly 
mediate a peace, wondring why they that seemed to be 
of one Country, should vse others with such hostilitie, 
and that with such a forme of habit and gesture as 
made them both to laugh." ^ 

His work done, and, as he thought, the French 
settlements of Acadia effectually blotted out, Argall 
set sail for Virginia on the thirteenth of November. 
Scarcely was he at sea when a storm scattered the 
vessels. Of the smallest of the three nothing was ever 
heard. Argall, severely buffeted, reached his port in 
safety, having first, it is said, compelled the Dutch at 
Manhattan to acknowledge for a time the sovereignty 
of King James.^ The captured ship of Saussaye, with 
Biard and his colleague Quentin on board, was forced 
to yield to the fury of the western gales, and bear away 
for the Azores. To Biard the chano-e of destination 
w^s nowise unwelcome. He stood in fear of the trucu- 
lent governor of Virginia, and his tempest-rocked slum- 
bers were haunted with unpleasant visions of a rope's 
end.^ It seems that some of the French at Port Royal, 
disappointed in their hope of hanging him, had com- 
mended him to Sir Thomas Dale as a proper subject 

1 Purchas, IV. 1808. 

^ De/^cripii'on of the Provmce of New Albion, in Neiv Y^orh Historical C>ilhc- 
twns, Second Series, I. 335. The statement is doubtful. It is supported, 
however, by the excellent authority of Dr. O'Callaghan, History of New 
Nelherlmtd, I. 69. 

•^ " Le Marechal Thomas Deel (que vous avez ouy estre fort aspre en 
scs humeurs) .... attendoit en bon deuotion le Pere Biard pour luy 
tost accourcir les voyages, luy faisant trouuer an milieu d'une eschelle le 
bout du monde." — Biard, Relation, c. XXX., XXX ITT. 



IfilC] ADVENTURES OF THE JESUITS. <^C)1 

for tlie gallows, drawing up a paper, signed by six of 
them, and containing allegations of a nature well fitted 
to kindle the wrath of that vehement official. The vessel 
was commanded by Turnel, Argall's lieutenant, appar- 
ently an officer of merit, a scholar and linguist. He 
had treated his prisoner with great kindness, because, 
says the latter, " he esteemed and loved him for his 
naive simplicity and ingenuous candor." ^ But of late, 
thinking his kindness misplaced, he had changed it for 
an extreme coldness, preferring, in the words of Biard 
himself, " to think that the Jesuit had lied, rather than 
S50 many who accused him." ^ 

Water ran low, provisions began to fail, and they eked 
out their meagre supply by butchering the horses taken 
at Port Royal. At length they came within sight of 
Fayal, when a new terror seized the minds of the two 
Jesuits. Might not the Englishmen fear that their 
prisoners would denounce them to the fervent Catholics 
of that island as pirates and sacrilegious kidnaj^pers 
of priests % From such hazard the escape was obvious. 
What more simple than to drop the priests into the 
sea % ^ In truth, the English had no little dread of the 
results of conference between the Jesuits and the Port- 
uguese authorities of Fayal; but the conscience or hn- 

1 " . . . . il avoit faict estat de le priser et I'aymer pour sa naifue sim- 
plicite et ouuerte candeur." — Biard, Relation, c. XXX. 

2 " . . . . il aimoit mieux croire que le lesuite fust menteur que non 
pas tant d'autres qui I'accusoyent." — Ibid. 

^ " Ce souci nous inquie'tait fort. Qu'allaient-ils faire 1 Nous jette- 
raient-ils a Teaul" — Letlre du P. Biard au T. R. P. Claude. Arjiiaviva, 
Amiens, 26 Mai, 1614, in Carayon, 106. Like all Biard's letters to 
Aquaviva, this is translated from the original Latin. 



RUIN OF FRENCH ACADIA. [1G13. 

maiilty of Turnel revolted at the expedient which awa- 
kened grievous apprehension in the troubled mind of 
Biard. He contented himself with requiring that the 
two priests should remain hidden while the ship lay off 
the port. Biard does not say that he enforced the 
demand either by threats or by the imposition of oaths. 
He and his companion, however, rigidly complied with 
it, lying close in the hold or under the boats, while 
suspicious officials searched the ship, — a proof, he tri- 
umphantly declares, of the audacious malice which has 
asserted it as a tenet of Rome that no faith need be kept 
with heretics. 

Once more at sea, Turnel shaped his course for 
home, having, with some difficulty, grained a supply of 
water and provision at Fayal. All was now harmony 
betwixt him and his prisoners. Arrived at Pembroke, 
in Wales, the appearance of the vessel — a French 
craft in English hands — again drew upon him the 
suspicion of piracy. The Jesuits, dangerous witnesses 
among the Catholics of Fayal, could at the worst do 
little harm with the Vice-Admiral at Pembroke. To 
him, therefore, he led the prisoners, in the sable garb 
of their order, now much the worse for wear, and com- 
mended them as persons without reproach, " wherein," 
adds the modest father, " he spoke the truth." ^ The 
result of this evidence was, we are told, that Turnel 
was henceforth treated, not as a pirate, but, according 
to his deserts, as an honorable gentleman. This inter- 

*".... gens irreprochables, ce disoit-il, et disoit vray." — Biard. 
Relation, c. XXXII. 



16 U.J FORTUNES OF THE COLONISTS. OQQ 

view led to a iiieetino- with certain dio^nitaries of the 
Anglican church, who, much interested in an encounter 
with Jesuits in their robes, were filled, says Biard, with 
wonder and admiration at what they were told of their 
conduct.^ He explains that these churchmen differ 
widely in form and doctrine from the English Calvin- 
ists, who, he says, are called Puritans; and he adds 
that they are superior in every respect to these, whom 
ihey detest as an execrable pest.^ 

Biard was sent to Dover and thence to Calais, re- 
turning, perhaps, to the tranquil honors of his chair of 
theology at Lyons. Saussaye, La Motte, Flory, and 
other prisoners, were, at various times, sent from Vir- 
ginia to England and ultimately to France. Madame 
de Giiercheville, her pious designs crushed in the bud, 
seems to have gained no further satisfaction than the 
restoration of the vessel. The French ambassador 
complained of the outrage, but answer was postponed; 
and, in the troubled state of France, the matter appears 
to have been dropped.^ 

Argall, whose violent, unscrupulous, and crafty char- 
acter was offset by a gallant bearing and various tiaits 
of martial virtue, became deputy-governor of Virginia,- 
and, under a military code, ruled the colony with a rod 
of iron. He enforced the observance of Sunday with 
an edifying vigor. Those who absented themselves 

^ " . . . . et les ministres en denionstroyent grands signes estonne- 
ment et d'admiration." — Biard, Relation, c. XXXI. 

^ ". . . . et les detestent comiiie peste execrable." — Ihkl. c. XXXII. 

^ Order of Council respectint] certain claims w/ainsl Capt. An/all, etc. An- 
swer to the p-^eceding Order. See Colonial Documents of New York, III. 1, 2, 
25* 



294< KUIN OF FRENCH ACADIA. 11615 

from church were, for the first offence, imprisoned for 
the night, and r(*duced to slavery for a week ; for the 
second offence, a month ; and for the third, a year. 
Nor was he less strenuous in his devotion to Mammon. 
He enriched himself by extortion and wholesale pecu- 
lation, and his audacious dexterity, aided bv the coun- 
tenance of the Eurl of Warwick, who is said to have 
had a trading connection with him, thwarted all the 
efforts of the company to bring him to account. In 
1623, he was knighted by the hand of King James.* 

Early in the spring following the English attack^ 
Poutrincourt came to Port Royal. He found the place 
in ashes, and his unfortunate son, with the men under 
his command, wandering houseless in the forests. They 
had passed a winter of extreme misery, sustaining their 
wretched existence with roots, the buds of trees, and 
lichens peeled from the rocks. 

Despairing of his enterprise, Poutrincourt returned 
to France. In the next year, 1615, during the civil 
disturbances which followed the marriage of the King-, 
command was given him of the royal forces destined 
for the attack on Mery ; and here, happier in his death 
than in his life, he fell, sword in hand.^ 

Despite their reverses, the French kept a tenacious 
hold on Acadia.^ Biencourt, partially at least, rebuilt 

1 Argall's history may be gleaned from Purchas, Smith, Stith, Gorges, 
Beverly, etc. An excellent summary will be found in Belknap's Ameii- 
can Bioi/ra/ihij, anl a, briefer one in Allen's. 

2 Nobi/issimi Ilerois Poinncurtii Epitapliutm, Lescarbot, (1618,) 691. He 
toolc tlie town, but was killed immediately after by a treacherous shot, in 
the fifty-eighth year of liis age. He \vas buried on hjs barony of St. Just. 

" According to Biard, more tlian five hundred French vessels sailed 



1615.] FRANCE AND ENGLAND. ^95 

Port Royal ; while winter after winter the smoke of fur- 
traders' huts curled into the still, sharp air of these 
frosty wilds, till at length, with happier auspices, plans 
of settlement were resumed.-^ 

Rude hands strangled the "northern Paraguay" in its 
birth. Its beginnings had been feeble, but behind were 
the forces of a mighty org-anization, at once devoted and 
ambitious, enthusiastic and calculating. Seven years 
later the Mayflower landed her emigrants at Plymouth. 
Wbat \vould have been the issues had the zeal of the 
pious Lady of Honor preoccupied New England with 
a Jesuit colony 1 A collision of adverse elements ; a 
conflict of water and fire ; the death-grapple of the iron 
Puritans with these indouiitable priests. 

In a semi-piratical descent, an obscure stroke of law- 
less violence, began the strife of France and England, 
Protestantism and Rome, which, for a century and a 
half, shook the struggling communities of North Amer- 
ica, and closed at last in the memorable triumph on the 
Plains of Abraham, 

annually, at this time, to America, for the whale and cod fishery and the 
fur-trade. 

1 There is an autograph letter in the Archives de la Marine from Bien- 
court, — who had succeeded to his father's designation, — written at Port 
Eoj'al in September, 1618, and addressed " utu Autovll€s de la Villc. de 
Paris," in which he urges upon them the advantages of establishing for- 
tified posts in Acadia, thus defending it against incursions of the Englisii, 
who had latt-ly seized a French trader from Dieppe, and insuring the con- 
tinuance and increase of the traffic in furs from which tlie city of Paris 
lerivcd surli advantages. Moreover, he adds, it will serve as an asylum 
for the indigent and suffering of tlie city, to their own great benefit and 
the advantage of the municipality, who will be relieved of the burden 
uf their maintenance. It does not appear that the city responded t" hi.s 
appeal. 



CHAPTER IX. 

1608, 1609. 

CHAMPLAIN AT QUEBEC. 

A New Enterprise. — The St. Laweexck- — Conflict with Basques. — 
Tadoussac. — Quebec founded. — Conspiracy. — Winter. — TiiK 

MONTAGNAIS. — SpUING. — PROJECTS OF EXPLORATION. 

A LONELY ship sailed up the St. Lawrence. The 
white whales floundering- in the Bay of Tadoussac, and 
the wild duck diving as the foaming; prow drew near, 
— there was no life hut these in all that watery solitude, 
twenty miles from shore to shore. The ship was from 
Honfle'jr, and was commanded by Samuel de Cham- 
plain. He was the iEneas of a destined people, and in 
her womb lay the embryo life of Canada. 

De Monts, after his exclusive privilege of trade was 
revoked, and his Acadian enterprise ruined, had aban- 
doned it, as we have seen, to Poutrincourt. Well, per 
haps, would it have been for him, had he abandoned 
with it all Transatlantic enterprises ; but the passion 
for discovery, the noble ambition of founding colonies, 
had taken possession of his mind. Nor does it appear 
that he was actuated by hopes of gain. Yet the prof- 
its of the fur-trade were vital to the new desig-ns he 
was meditating, to meet the heavy outlay they de- 
manded ; and he solicited and obtained a fresh monop- 
oly of the traffic for one year.^ 

1 See the patent in Champlain, (1613,) 163. 



1608.1 VIEWS OF CHAMPLAIN. 



297 



Champlain was, at the time, in Paris; but his unquiet 
thoughts turned westward. He was enamored of the 
New World, whose rugged charms had seized his fancy 
and his heart ; and as explorers of Arctic seas have 
pined in their repose for polar ice and snow, so did he, 
with restless longing, revert to the fog-wrapped coasts, 
the piny odors of forests, the noise of waters, the sharp 
and piercing sunlight, so dear to his remembrance. 
Fain would he unveil the mystery of that boundless 
wilderness, and plant the Catholic faith and the power 
of France amid its ancient barbarism. 

Five years before, he had explored the St. Lawrence 
as far as the rapids above Montreal. On its banks, as 
he thought, was the true site for a settlement, a fortified 
post, whence, as from a secure basis, the waters of the 
vast interior might be traced back towards their sources, 
and a western route discovered to China and the East. 
For the fur-trade, too, the innumerable streams that 
descended to the great river might all be closed against 
foreign intrusion by a single fort at some commanding 
point, and made tributary to a rich and permanent com- 
merce ; while — and this was nearer to his heart, for 
he had often been heard to say that the saving of a soul 
was worth more than the conquest of an empire — 
countless savage tribes, in the bondage of Satan, might 
by the same avenues be reached and redeemed. 

De Monts embraced his views; and, fitting out two 
ships, gave command of one to the elder Pontgrave, 
of the other to Champlain. The former was to trade 
with the Indians and bring back the cargo of furs 



Q^^ CHAMP LAIN AT QEi^BEC. [1G08. 

which, it was hoped, would meet the expense of the 
voyage. To the latter fell the harder task of settle- 
ment and exploration. 

Pontgrave, laden with goods for the Indian trade of 
Tadoussac, sailed from Honfleur on the fifth of April, 
1608. Champlain, with men, arms, and stores for the 
colony, followed eight days later. On the fifteenth of 
May he was on the Grand Bank ; on the thirtieth he 
passed Gaspe, and on the third of June neared Ta- 
doussac. No life was to be seen. Had Pontgrave yet 
arrived 1 He anchored, lowered a boat, and rowed into 
the port, round the rocky point at the southeast, then, 
from the fury of its winds and currents, called La 
Pointe de Tons les Diables.^ There was life enough 
within, and more than he cared to find. In the still 
anchorage under the cliffs lay Pontgrave's vessel, and 
at her side another ship. The latter was a Basque 
fur-trader. 

Pontgrave, arriving- a few days before, had found 
himself anticipated by the Basques, who were busied in 
a brisk trade with bands of Indians cabined along the 
borders of the cove. In all haste he displayed the 
royal letters, and commanded a cessation of the prohib- 
ited traffic ; but the Basques proved refractory, declared 
that they would trade in spite of the King, fired on 
Pontgrave with cannon and musketry, wounded him 
and two of his men, and killed a third. They then 
boarded his vessel, and carried away all his cannon, 

1 Cliamplain, (1613,) 166. Also called La Poiute aux Eochers. Ibid. 
(1632,) 119. 



1608.1 TADOUSSAC. ^99 

small arms, and ammunition, saying- that they would 
restore them when they had finished their trade and 
were ready to return home. 

Champlain found his comrade on shore, in a disabled 
condition. The Basques, though still strong enough to 
make fight, were alarmed for the consequences of their 
procedure, and anxious to come to terms. A peace, 
therefore, was signed on board their vessel ; all differ- 
ences were referred to the judgment of the French 
courts, harmony was restored, and the choleric stran- 
gers betook themselves to catching whales. 

This port of Tadoussac was long the centre of the 
Canadian fur - trade. A desolation of barren moun- 
tains closes around it, betwixt whose ribs of rugged 
granite, bristling with. savins, birches, and firs, the Sa- 
guenay rolls its gloomy waters from the northern wil- 
derness. Centuries of civilization have not tamed the 
wildness of the place ; and still, in grim repose, the 
mountains hold their guard around the waveless lake 
that glistens in their shadow, and doubles, in its sullen 
mirror, crag, precipice, and forest. 

Near the brink of the cove or harbor where the 
vessels lay, and a little below the mouth of a brook 
which formed one of the outlets of this small lake, 
stood the remains of the wooden barrack built by Chau- 
vin eight years before. Above the brook were the 
lodges of an Indian camp,-^ — stacks of poles covered 
with birch - bark. They belonged to an Algonquin 
horde, called Montagnais^ denizens of surrounding 

1 Plan du Port de Tadoussac, Champlain, (1613,J 172. 



300 CHAMPLAIN AT QUEBEC. (1G08, 

wilds, and gatherers of their only harvest, — skins of 
the moose, caribou, and bear ; fur of the beaver, marten, 
otter, fox, wild-cat, and lynx. Nor was this all, for they 
were intermediate traders betwixt the French and the 
shivering bands.who roamed the weary stretch of stunted 
forest between the head waters of the Saguenay and 
Hudson's Bay. Indefatigable canoe - men, in their 
birchen vessels, light as egg-shells, they threaded the 
devious tracks of countless rippling streams, shady by- 
ways of the forest, where the wild duck scarcely finds 
depth to swim ; then descended to their mart along 
those scenes of picturesque yet dreary grandeur which 
steam has made familiar to modern tourists. With 
slowly moving paddles, they glided beneath the cliff 
whose shaggy brows frown across the zenith, and whose 
base the deep waves wash with a hoarse and hollow 
cadence ; and they passed the sepulchral Bay of the 
Trinity, dark as the tide of Acheron, — a sanctuary 
of solitude and silence, where the soul of the wilderness 
dwells embodied in voiceless rock : depths which, as 
the fable runs, no sounding line' can fathom, and heights 
at whose dizzy verge the wheeling eagle seems a sj)eck.'^ 
And now, peace being established with the Basques, 
and the wounded Pontgrave busied, as far as might be, 
in transferring to tlie hold of his ship the rich lading of 
the Indian canoes, Champlain spread his sails, and once 
more held his course up the St. Lawrence. Far to 

1 Boucliette estimates tlie height of these cliffs at eigliteen liundred 
feet. Tiiey overhang the river and bay. The scene is one of the most 
remarkable on the continent. 



1608.J QUEBEC. gOl 

the south, in sun and shadow, slumbered the woody 
mountains whence fell the countless springs of the St. 
John, behind tenantless shores, now white with glim- 
mering- villages, — La Chenaie, Granville, Kaniouraska, 
St. Roche, St. Jean, Vincelot, Berthier. But on the 
north, the jealous wilderness still asserts its sway, 
crowding to the river's verge its rocky walls, its domes 
and towers of granite ; and to this hour, its solitude 
is scarcely broken. 

Above the point of the Island of Orleans, a constric- 
tion of the vast channel narrows it to a mile ; on one 
hand, the green heights of Point Levi ; on the other, 
the cliffs of Quebec.^ Here, a small stream, the St. 
Charles, enters the St. Lawrence, and in the angle 
(betwixt them rises the promontory, on two sides a 
natural fortress. Land among the walnut-trees that 
formed a belt between the cliffs and the St. Lawrence. 
Climb the steep height, now bearing aloft its ponderous 

1 The origin of this name has been disputeil, but there is no good 
ground to doubt its Indian origin, which is distinctly affirmed by 
Cliamplain and Lescarbot. Ciiarlevoix, Fastes Chronologiques, (1608,) 
derives it from the Algonquin word Queheio, or Quetibec, signifying a nar- 
rowing or contracting {r<^trechsement) . A half-breed Algonquin told Gar- 
neau that the word Quebec or Ouabec means a strait. The same writer was 
told by M. Malo, a missionary among the Micmacs, a branch of tlie Al- 
gonquins, that in their dialect the word Kibec had the same meaning. 
Martin says, " Les Algonquins I'appellent Ouabec, et les Micmacs Kebegiie', 
c'est a dire, ' la ou la riviere est fermce.' " Martin's Bressani, App. 326, 
The derivations given by Pothei'ie, Lc Beau, and others, arc purely fan- 
ciful. The circumstance of the word Quebec being found engraved on 
the ancient seal of Lord Suffolk (see Hawkins, Picture of Qtuhec) can 
only be regarded as a curious coincidence. In Cartier's times the site of 
Quebec was occupied by a tribe of the Iroquois race, who called their 
village Stadacong. The Hurons called it, says Sagard, Atou-ta-requee. Ip 
tile modern Huron dialect, Tialou-ta-riti means the narrows 
26 



g02 CHAMPLAIN AT QUEBEC. ^1608 

load of churches, convents, dwellings, ramparts, and 
batteries, — there was an accessible point, a rough pas- 
sage, gullied downward where. Prescott Gate now opens 
on the Lower Town. Mount to the highest summit, 
Cape Diamond,^ now zigzagged with warlike masonry. 
Then the fierce sun fell on the bald, baking rock, with 
its crisped mosses and parched lichens. Two centuries 
and a half have quickened the solitude with swarm- 
ing life, covered the deep bosom of the river with barge 
and steamer and gliding sail, and reared cities and vil- 
lages on the site of forests ; but nothing- can destroy 
the surpassing grandeur of the scene. 

Grasp the savin anchored in the fissure, lean over 
the brink of the precipice, and look downward, a little 
to the left, on the belt of woods which covers the strand 
between the water and the base of the cliffs. Here a 
gang of axe-men are at work, and Points Levi and Or- 
leans echo the crash of f.ilhn<j trees. 

These axe-men were pioneers of an advancing host, 
— advancing, it is true, with feeble and uncertain 
progress : priests, soldiers, peasants, feudal scutcheons, 
royal insignia. Not, the Middle Age, but engendered 
of it by the stronger life of Modern Centralization ; 
sharply stamped with a parental likeness ; heir to pa- 
rental weakness and parental force. 

A i^ew weeks passed, and a pile of wooden buildings 
rose on the brink of the St. Lawrence, on cr near the 



1 Cliamplain calls Cape Diamond, Mont du Gas (Guast), frcm the fam- 
ily name of De Monts. He gives the name of Cape Diamond to Pointa 
a Piiiseaux. See Map of Quebec, (1613). 



1608.] CONSPIRACY. 303 

site of the market-place of the Lower Town of Quebec.^ 
The pencil of Champlain, always regardless of propor- 
tion and perspective, has preserved its semblance. A 
strong- wooden wall, surmounted b}^ a gallery loop-holed 
for musketry, enclosed three buildings, containing quar- 
ters for himself and his men, together with a court- 
yard, from one side of which rose a tall dove-cot, like 
a belfry. A moat surrounded the whole, and two or 
three slnall cannon were planted on salient platforms 
towards the river. There was a laro^e maaazine near 
at hand, and a part of the adjacent ground was laid 
out as a garden. 

In this garden Champlain was one morning direct- 
ing his laborers, when the pilot of the ship approached 
him with an anxious countenance, and muttered a re- 
quest to speak with him in private. Champlain assent- 
ing, they withdrew to the neighboring woods, when the 
pilot disburdened himself of his secret. One Antoine 
Natel, a locksmith, smitten by conscience or fear, had 
revealed to him a conspiracy to murder his commander 
and deliver Quebec into the hands of the Basques and 
of certain Spain'ards lately arrived at Tadoussac. An- 
other locksmith, named Duval, was the author of 
the plot, and, with the aid of three accomplices, had 
befooled or terrified nearly all the company into bear- 
ing a part in it. Each was assured that he should 
make his fortune, and all were mutually pledged to 
poniard the first betrayer of the secret. The critical 
point of their enterprise was the killing of Champlain. 
Some were for strangling him in his bed, some for 

1 Compare Faribault, Voyages de Ddcouverte au Canada, 105. 



QQ4) CIIAMPLAIN AT' QUEBEC. [1G08. 

raising a ftilse alarm in the night and shooting him as 
he issued from his quarters. 

Having heard the pilot's story, Champlain, remain- 
ing in the \A'oods, desired his informant to find Antoine 
Natel, and hring him to the spot. Natel soon appeared, 
trembling with excitement and fear, and a close exam- 
ination left 110 doubt of the truth of his statement. A 
shallop, built by Pontgrave at Tadoussac, had lately 
arrived, and orders were now given that it should an 
chor before the buildings. On board was a young 
man in whom confidence could be placed. Champlain 
sent him two bottles of wine, with a direction to tell 
the four ringleaders that they had been given him by 
his Basque friends at Tadoussac, and to invite them to 
share the good cheer. They came aboard in the even- 
ing, and were instantly seized and secured. " Voi/la 
done mes galants hien estonnez,'' writes Champlain. 

It was ten o'clock, and most of the men on shore 
were asleep. They were wakened suddenly, and told 
of the discovery of the plot and the arrest of the ring- 
leaders. Pardon was then promised them, and they 
were dismissed again to their beds greatly relieved, for 
they had lived in trepidation, each fearing' the other. 
Duval's body, swinging from a gibbet, gave wholesome- 
warning to those he had seduced ; and his head was 
displayed on a pike, from the highest roof of the 
buildings, food for birds, and a lesson to sedition. His 
three accomplices were carried by Pontgrave to France, 
where they made their atonement in the galleys.^ 

It was on the eighteenth of September that Pont- 
1 Lescarbot, {1G12,) 623 ; Purchas, IV. 1642. 



1G08.] THE MONTAGNAIS. gO.5 

grave set sail, leaving Champlain with twenty-eight 
men to hold Quebec through the winter. Three weeks 
later and shores and liiils glowed with gay prognostics 
of approaching desolation, — the yellow and scarlet of 
the maples, the deep purple of the ash, the garnet hue 
of young oaks, the bonfire blaze of the tupelo at the 
water's edge, and the golden plumage of birch-saplings 
ill the fissure of the cliff. It was a short-lived beauty. 
The forest dropped its festal robes. Shrivelled and 
faded, they rustled to the earth. The crystal air and 
laughing sun of October passed away, and November 
sank upon the shivering waste, chill, and sombre a^ 
the tomb. 

A roving band of Montagnais had built their huts 
near the buildings, and were busying- themselves in 
their autumn eel-fishery, on which they greatly relied to 
sustain their miserable lives through the winter. Their 
slimy harvest gathered, and duly smoked and dried, they 
gave it for safe-keeping to Champlain, and set forth to 
hunt beavers. It was deep in the winter before they 
came back, reclaimed their eels, built their birch cabins 
again, and disposed themselves for a life of ease, until 
famine or their enemies should put a period to their 
enjoyments. These were by no means without alloy. 
As, gorged with food, they lay dozing on piles of 
branches in their smoky huts, where, through the crev- 
ices of the thin birch - bark, streamed in a cold capa- 
ble at times of congealing mercury, — as they thus re- 
posed, their slumbers were beset with nightmare visions 
of Iroquois forays, scalpings, butcheringSj and burn- 

26* 



306 CHAMPLAIN AT QUEBEC. [1608. 

ings. As dreams were their oracles, the camp was 
wild with fright. They sent out no scouts and placed 
no guard ; but, with each repetition of these nocturnal 
terrors, they came flocking in a body to beg admission 
within the fort. The women and children were allowed 
to enter the yard and remain during the night, while 
anxious fathers and jealous husbands shivered in the 
darkness without. 

On one occasion, a group of wretched beings was 
seen on the farther bank of the St. Lawrence, like wild 
animals driven by famine to the borders of the settler's 
•clearinof. The river was full of driftinsf ice : none 
could cross without risk of life. The Indians, in their 
desperation, made the attempt ; and midway their canoes 
were ground to atoms among the tossing masses. Agile 
as wild-cats, they all leaped upon a huge raft of ice, the 
squaws carrying their children on their shoulders, — a 
feat at which Champlain marvelled when he saw their 
starved and emaciated condition. Here they began a 
wail of despair ; when happily the pressure of other 
masses thrust the sheet of ice against the northern 
shore. Landing, they soon made their appearance at 
the fort, worn to skeletons and horrible to look upon. 
The French gave them food, which they devoured with 
a frenzied avidity, and, unappeased, fell upon a dead dog 
left on the snow by Champlain for two months past a& 
a bait for foxes. They broke this carrion into frag- 
ments, thawed and devoured it, to the disgust of the 
spectators, who tried vainly to prevent them. 

This was but a severe access of that periodical fam- 



1G09.] WINTER AT QUEBEC. Sifj 

ine which, during winter, was a normal condition of 
the Algonquin tribes of Acadia and the Lower St. 
Lawrence, who, unlike the cognate tribes of New Eng- 
land, never tilled the soil or made any reasonable pro- 
vision against the time of need. 

One would gladly know how the founders of Quebec 
spent the long hours of their first winter ; but on this 
point the only man among them, perhaps, who could 
write, has not thought it necessary to enlarge. He 
himself beguiled his leisure with trapping' foxes, or 
hanging a dead dog from a tree and watching the hun- 
gry martens in their efforts to reach it. Towards the 
close of winter, all found abundant employment in 
nursing themselves or their neighbors, for the inevitable 
scurvy broke out with virulence. At the middle of 
May, only eight men of the twenty-eight were alive, 
and of these half were suffering from disease.-^ 

This wintry purgatory wore away ; the icy stalactites 
that hung from the cliffs fell crashing to the earth ; the 
clamor of the wild geese was heard ; the bluebirds 
appeared in the naked woods ; the water-willows were 
covered with their soft caterpillar - like blossoms ; the 
twigs of the swamp -maple were flushed with ruddy 
bloom ; the ash hung out its black-tufted flowers ; the 
shad-bush seemed a wreath of snow ; the white stars of 
the bloodroot gleamed among dank, fallen leaves ; and 
in the young grass of the wet meadows, the marsli- 
marygolds shone like spots of gold. 

Great was the joy of Champlain when he saw a 
1 Champlain, (1613,) 205. 



g08 CHAMPLAIN AT QUEBEC. [1609. 

sail -boat roundins" the Point of Orleans, betokenino 
that the spring had broucrht with it the loncred-for suc- 
cors. A son-in-law of Pontgrave, named Marais, was 
on board, and he reported that Pontgrave was then at 
Tadoussac, where he had lately arrived. Thither Cham- 
plain hastened, to take counsel with his comrade. His 
constitution or his courage had defied the scurvy. They 
met, and it was determined betwixt them, that, while 
Pontgrave remained in charge of Quebec, Champlain 
should enter at once oii his long-meditated explorations, 
by which, like La Salle seventy years later, he had 
good hope of finding a way to China. 

But there was a lion in the path. The Indian tribes, 
war-hawks of the wildernessj to whom peace was un- 
known, infested with their scalping- parties the streams 
and pathways of the forest, increasing tenfold its in- 
separable risks. That to all these hazards Champlain 
was more than indifferent, his after-career bears abun- 
dant witness ; yet now an expedient for evading them 
offered itself, so consonant with his instincts that he 
was fain to accept it. Might he not anticipate sur- 
prises, join a war-party, and fight his way to discovery 1 

During the last autumn, a young chief from the 
banks of the then unknovi'n Ottawa had been at Que- 
bec ; and, amazed at what he saw, he had begged 
Champlain to join him in the spring against his ene- 
mies. These enemies were a formidable race of sav- 
ages, the Iroquois, or Five Confederate Nations, dwell- 
ers in fortified villages within limits now embraced by 
the State of New York, to whom was afterwards oiven 



1609.] THE IROQUOIS. QQg 

the fanciful name of " Romans of the New World," 
and who even then were a terror to all the surrounding' 
forests. Conspicuous among their enemies were their 
kindred, the tribes of the Hurons, dwelling on the lake 
which bears their name, and allies of Algonquin bands 
on the Ottawa. All alike were tillers of the soil, liv- 
ing at ease when compared to the famished Algonquins 
of the Lower St. Lawrence.-^ 

What was Champlain's plan, or had he a plan 1 To 
influence Indian counsels, to hold the balance of power 
between adverse tribes, to envelop in the network of 
her power and diplomacy the remotest hordes of the 
wilderness, — such, from first to last, was the policy of 
France in America. Of this policy the Father of New 
France may perhaps be held to have set a rash and 
premature example. Yet, while he was apparently fol- 
iowing the dictates of his own adventurous spirit, it 
became evident, a few years later, that, under his thirst 
for discovery and spirit of knight-errantry lay a con- 
sistent and deliberate purpose. This purpose will be 
shown hereafter. That it had already assumed a defi- 
nite shape is not likely ; yet his after - course makes 
it evident, that, in embroiling himself and his colony 
with the most formidable savages on the continent, he 
was by no means acting so recklessly as at first sight 
would appear. 

1 The tribes east of the Mississippi, between the latitudes of Lake Su- 
perior and the Ohio, were divided into two groups or families, distin- 
guished by a radical difference of language. One of tliese families of 
tribes is called Algonquin, from the name of a small Indian community 
on the Ottawa. The other is called the Huron-Iroquois, from the names 
of its two principal members 



CHAPTER X. 

1609. 

LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

Champlain joiys A Wak-Party. — Pkeparatiox. — Departure. - Thk 
KiVER Richelieu. — The Spiuits consulted. — Discovery of Lake 
Chajiplain. — Battle with the Iroquois. — Fate of Prisoners.— 
Panic of the Victors. 

It was past the middle of Ma}!-, and the expected 
warriors from the upper country had not come : a delay 
which seems to have given Champlain little concern, 
for, without waiting longer, he set forth with no better 
allies than a band of Montagnais. But, as he moved 
up the St. Lawrence, he saw, thickly clustered in the 
bordering forest, the lodges of an Indian camp, and, 
landing, found his Huron and Algonquin allies. Few 
of them had ever seen a white man. They surrounded 
the steel - clad strangers in speechless wonderment. 
Champlain asked for their chief, and the staring throng 
moved with him towards a lodge where sat, not one 
chief, but two, for each band had its own. There 
were feasting, smoking, speeches ; and, the needful cer- 
emony over, all descended together to Quebec ; for the 
strangers \A'ere bent on seeing those wonders of archi- 
tecture whose fame had pierced the recesses of their 
forests. 

On their arrival, they feasted their eyes and glutted 



1609.] INDIAN WARRIORS. 31] 

their appetites ; yelped consternation at the sharp ex- 
plosion of the arquebuse and the roar of the cannon ; 
pitched their camps, and bedecked themselves for their 
war-dance. In the still night, their fire glared against 
the black and jagged cliff, and the fierce red light fell 
on tawny limbs convulsed with frenzied gestures and 
ferocious stampings ; on contorted visages, hideous with 
paint ; on brandished weapons, stone war - clubs, stone 
hatchets, and stone-pointed lances ; while the drum kept 
up its hollow boom, and the air was split with mingled 
yells, till the horned owl on Point Levi, startled at the 
sound, gave back a whoop no less discordant. 

Stand with Champlain and view the war-dance ; sit 
with him at the war-feast, — a close-packed company, 
ring within ring of ravenous feasters ; then embark with 
him on his hare-brained venture, of discovery. It was 
in a small shallop, carrying, besides himself, eleven men 
of Pontgrave's party, including his son-in-law, Marais. 
and La Routte, his pilot. They were armed with the 
arquebuse, a matchlock or firelock somewhat like the 
modern carbine, and from its shortness not ill-suited for 
use in the forest. On the twenty-eighth of May,^ they 
spread their sails and held their course against the cur- 
rent, while around them the river was alive with canoes, 
and hundreds of naked arms plied the paddle with a 
steady, measured sweep. They cr^ossed the Lake of St. 
Peter, threaded the devious channels among its many 
islands, and reached at last the mouth of the Riviere 

1 Champlain's dates, in this part of his narrative, are exceedingly care- 
less and confused, May and June being mixed indiscriminately. 



31^ LAKE CHAMPLAm. [1609. 

des Iroquois, since called the Richelieu, .or the St. 
John.-^ Here, probably on the site of the town of 
Sorel, the leisurely warriors encamped for two days, 
hunted, fished, and took their ease, regaling their allies 
with venison and wild -fowl. They quarrelled, too; 
three fourths of their number seceded, took to their 
canoes in dudgeon, and paddled towards their homes, 
while the rest pursued their course up the broad and 
placid stream. 

On left and right stretched walls of verdure, fresh 
with the life of June. Now, aloft in the lonely air 
rose the cliffs of Beloeil, and now, before them, framed 
in circling forests, the Basin of Chambly sj)read its 
tranquil mirror, glittering in the sun. The shallop out- 
sailed the canoes. Champlain, leaving his allies behind, 
crossed the basin and essayed to pursue his course; but 
as he listened in the stillness, the unwelcome noise of 
rapids reached his ear, and, by glimpses through the 
dark foliage of the Islets of St. John, he could see the 
gleam of snowy foam and the flash of hurrying waters. 
Leaving the boat by the shore in charge of four men, 
he set forth with Marais, La Routte, and five others, to 
explore the wild before him. They pushed their te- 
dious way through the damps and shadows of the wood, 
through thickets and tangled vines, over mossy rocks 
and mouldering logs. Still the hoarse surging of the 
rapids followed them ; and when, parting the screen of 
foliage, they looked forth, they saw the river thick set 
with rocks, where, plunging over ledges, gurgling 
1 Also called the Chambly, the St. Louis, and the Sorel. 



1609.] THE EIVER KICHELIEU. 313 

under drift-logs, darting along clefts, and boding in 
chasms, the angry waters filled the solitude with mo- 
notonous ravings.-^ 

Chaniplain, disconsolate, retraced his steps. He had 
learned the value of an Indian's word. His menda- 
cious allies had promised him, that, throughout their 
course, his shallop could pass unobstructed. But 
should he abandon the adventure, and forego the discov- 
ery of that great lake, studded with islands and bor- 
dered with a fertile land of forests, which his red com- 
panions had traced in outline, and by word, and sign 
had painted to his fancy"? 

When he reached the shallop, he found the whole 
savage crew gathered at the spot. He mildly rebuked 
their bad faith, but added, that, though they had deceived 
him, he, as far as might be, would fulfil his pledge. 
To this end, he directed Marais, with the boat and the 
greater part of the men, to return to Quebec, while he, 
with two who offered to follow him, should proceed in 
the Indian canoes. 

The warriors lifted their canoes from the water, and 
in long procession through the forest, under the flicker- 
ing sun and shade, bore them on their shoulders around 
the rapids to the smooth stream above. Here the chiefs 
made a muster of their forces, counting twenty-four 
canoes and sixty warriors. All embarked again, and 
advanced once more, by marsh, meadow, forest, and 
scattered islands, then full of game, for it was an unin- 

1 In spite of the clmnges of civilization, the tourist, with Champlain'a 
journal in his hand, can easily trace each stage of his progress. 
27 



gl4 LAKE CHAMPLAIN. [1609 

habited land, the war-path and battle-ground of hostile 
tribes. The warriors observed a certain system in their 
advance. Some were in front as a vanguard ; oth- 
ers formed the main body ; while an equal number were 
in the forests on the flanks and rear, hunting for the 
subsistence of the whole; for, though they had a pro- 
vision of parched maize pounded into meal, they kept 
it for use when, from the vicinity of the enemy, hunt- 
ing should become impossible. 

Late in the day, they landed and drew up their canoes, 
ranging them closely, side by side. All was life and 
bustle. Some stripped sheets of bark, to cover their 
camp-sheds ; others gathered wood, — the forest was 
full of dead, dry trees; others felled the living trees, 
for a barricade. They seem to have had steel axes, 
obtained by barter from the French ; for in less than two 
hours tiiey had made a strong defensive woik, a half- 
circle In form, open on the river side, where their canoes 
lay on the strand, and large enough to enclose all their 
huts and sheds.^ Some of their number had gone for- 
ward as scouts, and, returning, reported no signs of an 
enemy. This was the extent of their precaution, for 
they placed no guard, but all, in full security, stretched 

1 Such extempore works of defence are still used among some tribes 
of the remote West. The author has twice seen them, made of trees 
piled together as described by Champlain, probably' by war-parties of the 
Crow or Snake Indians. In 1637, the Algonquins at Trois Eivieres, 
alarmed at a sudden raid of Iroquois, threw up a much more elaborate 
work of two lines of pickets, the intervening space being filled with 
earth. Le Jeune, Relation, 1637, 271. 

Champlain, usuallj- too concise, is very minute in his description of the 
march and encampment 



1609.] INDIAN ORACLE. S15 

themselves to sleep, — a vicious custom from which the 
lazy warrior of the forest rarely departs. 

Tliey had not forgotten, however, to take counsel of 
their oracle. The medicine - man pitched his magic 
lodge in the woods, — a small stack of poles, planted in 
a circle and brought together at the tops like stacked 
muskets. Over these he placed the filthy deer-skins 
which served him for a robe, and creeping in at a narrow 
orifice, he hid himself from view. Crouched in a ball 
upon the earth, he invoked the spirits in mumbling, in- 
articulate tones ; while his naked auditory, squatted on 
the ground like apes, listened in wgnderment and awe. 
Suddenly, the lodge moved, rocking- with violence to 
and fro, by the power of the spirits, as the Indians 
thought, while Champlain could plainly see the tawny 
fist of the medicine - man shaking the poles. They 
begged him to keep a watchful eye on the peak of the 
lodge, whence fire and smoke would presently issue; 
but with the best efforts of his vision, he discovered 
none. Meanwhile the medicine -man was seized with 
such convulsions, that, when his divination was over, his 
naked body streamed with perspiration. In loud, clear 
tones, and in an unknown tongue, he invoked tlie Spirit, 
who was understood to be present in the form of a 
stone, and whose feeble and squeaking accents were 
heard at intervals like the wail of a young puppy .^ 

^ Tliis mode of divination was universal among tlje Algonquin tribes, 
and is not extinct to tliis day among their roving northern bands. Le 
Jeune, Lafitau, and otlier early Jesuit writers describe it with great mi- 
nuteness. The former {Relalion, 1634) speaks of an audacious conjurer, 
who, having invoked the Manitou, or Spirit, killed liiin with a hatchet 



316 LAKE CHAJilFLAIN. il609. 

Thus did they consult tlje Spirit — as Champlain 
thinks, the Devil — at all their camps. His replies, 
for the most part, seem to have given them great con- 
tent ; yet they took other measures, also, of which the 
military advantages were less questionable. The ]irin- 
cipal chief gathered bundles of sticks, and, without 
wasting his breath, stuck them in the earth in a certain 
order, calling each by the name of some warrior, a few 
taller than the rest representing the subordinate chiefs. 
Thus was indicated the position which each was to iiold 
in the expected battle. All gathered around and atten- 
tively studied the sticks, ranged like a child's wooden 
soldiers, or the pieces on a chess-board ; then, with no 
further instruction, tiiey formed their ranks, broke them, 
and reformed them again and again with an excellent 
alacrity and skill. 

Again the canoes advanced, the river widening as 
they went. Great islands appeared, leagues in extent : 
Isle a la Motte, Long Island, Grande Isle. Channels 
where ships might float and broad reaches of expanding 
water stretched between them, and Champlain entered 
the lake which preserves his name to posterity. Cum- 
berland Head w:as passed, and from the opening of the 
great channel Jbetween Grande Isle and the main, he 
could look forth on the wilderness sea. Edged with 
woods, the tranquil flood spread southward beyond the 
sight. Far on the left, the forest ridges of the Green 



T; all appearance he was a stone, which, l^owever, wlien struck with the 
hatcliet, proved to be full of flesh and blood. A kindred superstition pre- 
vails among the Crow Indians. 



1609 1 DANGER. — PRECAUTION. QlJ 

Mountains were heaved against the sun, patclies of snow 
still ghstening on their tops ; and on the right rose the 
Adirondacks, haunts in these later years of amateur 
sportsmen from counting-rooms or college halls, nay, 
of adventurous beauty, with sketch-book and pencil. 
Then the Iroquois made them their hunting-ground ; and 
beyond, in the valleys of the Mohawk, the Onondaga, 
and the Genesee, stretched the long line of their five 
cantons and palisaded towns. 

At night, they were encamped again. The scene is 
a familiar one to many a tourist and sportsman ; and, 
perhaps, standing at sunset on the peaceful strand, 
Champlain saw what a roving student of this generation 
has seen on those same shores, at that same hour, — ■ 
the glow of the vanished sun behind the western moun- 
tains, darkly piled in mist and shadow along the sky ; 
near at hand, the dead pine, mighty in decay, stretching 
its ragged arms athwart the burning heaven, the crow 
perched on its top like an image carved in jet; and 
aloft, tlije night-hawk, circling in his flight, and, with a 
strange whirring sound, diving through the air each 
moment for the insects he makes his prey. 

The progress of the party was becoming dangerous. 
They changed their mode of advance, and moved only 
in the night. All day, they lay close in the depth of the 
forest, sleeping, lounging, smoking tobacco of their own 
raising, and beguiling the haurs, no doubt, with the 
shallow banter and obscene jesting with which knots of 
Indians are wont to amuse their leisure. At twilight 
they embarked again, paddling theii* cautious way till 

27* 



318 LAKE CHAMPLAIN. [1609. 

the eastern sky began to redden. Their goal was the 
rocky promontory wliere Fort Ticonderoga was long 
afterward built. Thence, they would pass the outlet 
of Lake George, and launch their canoes again on that 
Conio of the wilderness, whose waters, limpid as a 
fountain - head, stretched far southward between tlieir 
flanking mountains. Landing at the future site of Fort 
William Henry, they would carry their canoes through 
the forest to the River Hudson, and descending it, at- 
tack, perhaps, some outlying town of the Mohawks. 
In the next century this chain of lakes and rivers be- 
came the grand highway of savage and civilized war, a 
bloody debatable ground linked to memories of mo- 
mentous conflicts. 

The allies were spared so long a progress. On the 
morning of the twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all 
night, they hid as usual in the forest on the western 
shore, not far from Crown Point. The warriors 
stretched themselves to their slumbers, and Champlain, 
after walking for a time through the surrounding woods, 
returned to take his repose on a pile of spruce-boughs. 
Sleeping, he dreamed a dream, wherein he beheld the 
L'oquois drowning in the lake ; and, essaying to rescue 
them, he was told by his Algonquin friends that they 
were good for nothing and had better be left to their 
fate. Now, he had been daily beset, on awakening, by 
his superstitious allies, eager to learn about his dreams ; 
and, to this moment, his unbroken slumbers had faWed to 
furnish the desired prognostics. The announcement of 
this auspicious vision filled the crowd with joy, and at 



1609.1 ENCOUNTER WITH IROQUOIS. Q[g 

nightfall they embarked, flushed with anticipated vic- 
tories.^ 

It was ten o'clock in the evening, when they descried 
dark objects in motion on the lake before them. These 
were a flotilla of Iroquois canoes, heavier and slower 
than theirs, for they were made of oak-bark.^ Each 
party saw the other, and the mingled war-cries pealed 
over the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near 
the shore, having no stomach for an aquatic battle, 
landed, and, making night hideous with their clamors, 
began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see 
them in the woods, laboring like beavers, hacking down 
trees with iron axes taken from the Canadian tribes in 
war, and with stone hatchets of their own making. 
The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from the 
hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by 

1 The power of dreams among Indians in their primitive condition can 
scarcely be over-estimated. Among the ancient Hurons and cognate 
tribes, thej' were the universal authoritj' and oracle; but while a dreamer 
of reputation had unlimited power, the dream of a vaurien was held in no 
account. There were professed interpreters of dreams. Brebeuf, Rel. 
des Hurons, 117. 

A man, dreaming that he had killed his wife, made it an excuse for 
killing her in fact. All these tribes, including the Iroquois, liad a stated 
game called Ononham, or the dreaming game, in which dreams were 
made tlie pretext for the wildest extravagances. See Lafitau, Charlevoix, 
Sagard, Brebeuf, etc. 

2 Champlain, (1613,) 232. Probably a mistake; the Iroquois canoes 
were usually of elm-bark. The paper-birch was used wherever it could 
be had, being incomparably the best material. Ail the tribes, from the 
mouth of the Saco northward and eastward, and along the entire northern 
portion of the valley of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lakes, used the 
birch. The best substitutes were elm and spruce. The birch-bark, from 
its laminated texture, could be peeled at any time; the others only when 
the sap was in motion 



520 LAIvE CHAMPLAm. [IGO'J 

poles lashed across. All night, they danced with as 
much vigor as the frailty of their vessels would jjeraiit, 
their throats making- amends for the enforced restraint 
of their limhs. It was agreed on both sides that the 
fight should be deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a 
commerce of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave 
unceasing exercise to the lungs and fancy of the com- 
batants, -— " much," says Champlain, " like the besiegers 
and besieg^ed in a beleaouered town." 

As day approached, he and his two followers put on 
the light armor of the time. Champlain wore the 
doublet and long hose then in vogue. Over the doublet 
he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, 
while his thighs were protected by cidsses of steel, and 
his head by a plumed casque. Across his shoulder 
hung the strap of his bandoleer, or ammunition-box ; at 
his side was his sword, and in his hand his arquebuse, 
which he had loaded with four balls.^* Such was the 
equipment of this ancient Indian-fighter, whose exploits 
date eleven years before the landing of the Puritans at 
Plymouth, and sixty-six years before King Philip's War. 

Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate 
canoe, and, as it grew light, they kept themselves hid- 
den, either by lying at the bottom, or covering them- 
selves with an Indian robe. The canoes approached the 
shore, and all landed without opposition at some distance 
from the Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing 

1 Champlain, in his rude drawing of the battle, (ed. 1613,) portrays 
himself and his equipment ^yitll sufficient distinctness. Compare plates 
of the weapons and armor of tlie period in Meyrick, Ancient Armor, and 
Susane, Histoire de I'Ancienne Infanlerie Frangaise. 



1609.] VICTORY. Q^l 

out of their barricade, tall, strong men, some two hun- 
dred in number, of the boldest and fiercest warriors of 
North America. They advanced through the forest 
with a steadiness which excited the admiration of Cham- 
plain. Among them could be seen several chiefs, made 
cons]>icuous by their tall plumes. Some bore shields 
of wood and liide, and some were covered with a kind 
of armor made of tough twigs interlaced with a vege- 
table fibre supposed by Champlain to be cotton.^ 

The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries 
for. their champion, and opened their ranks that he 
might pass to the front. He did so, and, advancing 
before his red companions-in-arms, stood revealed to 
the astonished gaze of the Iroquois, who, beholding the 
warlike apparition in their path, stared in mute amaze- 
ment. But his arquebuse was levelled; the repor!; 
startled the woods, a chief fell dead, and another by 
his side rolled an)ong the bushes. Then there rose 
from the allies a yell, which, says Champlain, would 
have drowned a thunder-clap, and the forest was full of 
whizzing arrows. For a moment, the Iroquois stood 
firm and sent back their arrows lustily; but when an- 
other an'' /iuother gunshot came from the thickets on 
*Iieir flank, they broke and fled in uncontrollable terror. 
Swifter than hounds, the allies tore through the bushes 

1 Acconliiji: to Lafitau, both bucklers and breastplates were in frequent 
use among tlie Iroquois. Tlio forn.tr were very large, and made of cedar 
wood covered with interwoven tliongs of hide. The kindred nation of 
the Ilurons, says Sagard, ( Voyage des flurons, 126-'206,) carried large 
shields, and wore greaves for the legs and cuirasses made of twigs in- 
terwoven with cords. His account corresponds with thnt of Champlain, 
who gives a wood-cut of a warrior thus armed. 



5^^ LAKE CHAMPLAIIS. [1609. 

in pursuit. Some of the Iroquois were killed ; more 
were taken. Camp, cauoes, provisions, all were aban- 
doned, and many weapons flung down in the panic 
flight. The arquebuse had done its work. The vic- 
tory was complete. 

At night, the victors made their bivouac in the 
forest. A great fire was kindled, and near it, one of 
the captives was bound to a tree. The fierce crowd 
thronged around him, firebrands in their hands. Cham- 
plain sickened at his tortures : — 

" Let me send a bullet through his heart." 

They would not listen ; and when he saw the scalp 
torn from the living head,^ he turned away in anger 
and disgust. They followed : — 

" Do what you will with him.' 

He turned again, and at the report of his arquebuse 
the wretch's woes were ended. 

In his remonstrance, he had told them that the 
French never so used their prisoners. Not, indeed, 
their prisoners of war ; but had Champhiin stood a few 
months later in the frenzied crowd on the Place de la 
Greve at Paris. — had he seen the regicide Ravaillac, 
the veins of his forehead bursting with anguish, the hot 

^ It has been erroneously asserted that the practice of scalping did not 
prevail among the Indians before the advent of Europeans. In 1535, 
Cartier saw five scalps at Quebec, dried and stretclied on hoops. In 
15G4, Lauilonniere saw them among the Indians of Florida. The Algon- 
quins of New England and Nova Scotia were accustomed to cut off anf? 
carry away the head, which they afterwards scalped. Those of Canada, 
it seems, sometimes scalped dead bodies on the field. The AlgonqujP 
practice of carrying off heads as tropiiies is mentioned by Lalemar.t, 
Roger Williams, Lescarbot, and Champlain. Compare Historical Maya' 
tine, V. 253. 



IG09.] GEATITUDE OF TEE VICTORS. v^Jg 

lead and oil seething in liis lacerated breast, and the 
horses vainly panting' to drag his strong liuibs asunder, 
— he might have felt that Indian barbarity had found its 
match in the hell-born ingenuity of grave and learned 
judges. 

The victors made a prompt I'etreat from the scene of 
their triumph. Three or four days brought them to 
the mouth of the Richelieu. . Here they separated ; the 
Hurons and Algonquins made for the Ottawa, their 
homeward route, each with a share of prisoners for 
future torments. At parting they invited Champlain 
to visit their towns and aid them again in their wars, 
— an invitation which this paladin of the woods failed 
not to accept. 

The companions now remaining to him were the 
Montagnais. In their camp on the Richelieu, one of 
them dreamed that a war-party of Iroquois was close 
upon them; whereupon, in a torrent of rain, they left 
their huts, paddled in dismay to the islands above the 
Lake of St. Peter, and hid themselves all night in the 
rushes. In the morning, they took heart, emerged from 
their hiding-places, descended to Quebec, and went thence 
to Tadoussac, whither Champlain accompanied them. 
Here, the squaws, stark naked, swam out to the canoes 
to receive the heads of the dead Iroquois, and, hanging 
them from their necks, danced in triumj)hant glee along 
the shore. One of the heads and a pair of arms were 
then bestowed on Champlain, — touching memorials of 
gratitude, which, however, he was by no means to keep 
for himself, but to present them to the King. 



3^4 LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 11609. 

Thus did New France rush into collision with the 
redoubted warriors of the Five Nations. Here was 
the beginning, in some measures doubtless the cause, of 
a long suite of murderous conflicts, bearing havoc and 
flame to generations yet unborn. Cliamplain had in- 
vaded the tiger's den ; and now, in smothered fury, the 
patient savage would lie biding his day of blood. 



CHAPTER XI. 

1610 — 1612. 

WAR. TRADE. DISCOVERY. 

Champlain at Fontatnebleau. — Champlain on the St. Lawkence. — 
Alarm. — Battle. — War Parties. — Icebergs. — AdVentuueks. — 
Champlain at Montreal. — Return to France. — The Cojite dr 
SoissoNS. — The Prince of Conde. 

Champlain and Pontgrave returned to France. 
Pierre Chauvin of Dieppe held Quebec in their ab- 
sence. The King was at Fontainebleau, — it was a few 
months before his assassination, — and here Champlain 
recounted his adventures, to the great contentment of 
the lively monarch. He gave him also, not the head 
of the dead Iroquois, but a belt wrought in embroidery 
of dyed quills of the Canada porcupine, together with 
two small birds of scarlet plumage, and the skull of a 
gar-fish. 

De Monts was at court, striving for a renewal of his 
monopoly. His ei?brts failed ; on which, with admira- 
ble spirit, but with little discretion, he resolved to push 
his enterprise without it. Early in the spring of 1610, 
the ship was ready, and Champlain and Pontgrave 
were on board, when a violent illness seized the former, 
reducing him to the most miserable of all conflicts, the 
battle of the eager spirit against the treacherous and 
failing flesh. Partially recovered, he put to sea, giddy 

28 



S2b WAR. — TRADE. — DISCO VEliY. [1010. 

and weak, in wretched plight for the hard career of 
toil and battle which the New World offered him. The 
voyage was prosperous, no other mishap occurring 
than that of an ardent youth of St. Malo, who drank 
the health of Pontgrave with such persistent enthusiasm 
that he fell overboard and was drowned. 

There were ships at Tadoussac, fast loading with 
furs; boats, too, higher up the river, anticipating the 
trade, and draining De Monts's resources in advance. 
Champlain, who had full discretion to fight and explore 
wherever he should see fit, had provided, to use his own 
phrase, " two strings to his bow." On the one hand, 
the Montagnais had promised to guide him northward 
to Hudson's Bay; on the other, the Hurons were to 
show him the Great Lakes, with the mines of copper 
on their shores ; and to each was the same reward 
promised, — to join them against the common foe, the 
deadly Iroquois. The rendezvous was at the mouth of 
the River Richelieu. Thither the Hurons were to de- 
scend in force, together with Algonquins of the Ottawa; 
and thither Champlain now repaired, v.diile around his 
boat swarmed a multitude of Montagnais canoes, filled 
with warriors whose lank hair streamed loose in the 
wind. 

There is an island in the St. Lawrence near the 
'mouth of the Richelieu. On the nineteenth of June, 
it was swarming with busy and clamorous savages, 
Champlain's Montagnais allies, cutting down the trees 
and clearino^ the g^round for a dance and a feast; for 
they were hourly expecting the Algonquin warriors, 



1610.] ALARM. Qon 

and were eaa^er to welcome them with befittiiiof honors. 
But suddenly, far out on the river, they saw an ad- 
vancing canoe. Now on this side, now on that, the 
flashing- paddles urged it forward as if death were on 
its track ; and as it drew near, the strangers cried out 
that the Algonquins were in the forest, a league dis- 
tant, engaged with a hundred warriors of the Iroquois, 
who, outnumbered, were fighting savagely within a bar- 
ricade of trees. 

The air was split with shrill outcries. The Monta- 
gnais snatched their weapons, — shields, bows, arrows, 
war-clubs, sword-blades made fast to poles, — and, pell- 
mell, ran headlong to their canoes, impeding each other 
in their haste, screeching to Champlain to follow, and 
invoking with no less vehemence the aid of certain fur- 
traders, just arrived in four boats from below. These; 
as it was not their cue to fight-, lent them a deaf ear ; 
on which, in disgust and scorn, they paddled off, call- 
ing to the recusants that they were women, fit for 
nothino; but to make war on beaver - skins. 

Champlain and four of his men were in the canoes. 
They shot across the intervening water, and, as their 
prows grated on the pebbles, each warrior flung down 
])is paddle, snatched his weapons, and ran like a grey 
hound into the woods. The five Frenchmen followed 
striving vainly to keep pace with the naked, light- 
limbed rabble, bounding like shadows through the for- 
est. They quickly disappeared. Even their shrill 
cries grew faint, till Champlain and his men, discom- 
forted and vexed, found themselves desert^^c* in the 



3)28 WAR. — TEADE. — DISCOVERT. [1010. 

midst of a swamp. The day was sultry, the forest air 
heavy and dense, filled, too, with hosts of mosquitoes, 
" so thick," says the chief sufferer, " that we could 
scarcely draw hreath, and it was wonderful how cruel'y 
they persecuted us." ^ Through hlack mud, spongy 
moss, water knee-deep; over fallen trees ; among slimy 
logs and entangling roots ; tripped by vines ; laslied by 
recoiling boughs ; panting under their steel head-pieces 
and heavy corselets, the Frenchmen struggled on, bevvil 
dered and indignant. At length they descried two 
Indians running in the distance, and shouted to them 
in desperation, that, if they wished for their aid, they 
must guide them to the enemy. . 

And now they could hear the yells of the comba- 
tants ; now there was light in the forest before them ; 
and now they issued into a partial clearing made by the 
Iroquois axe-men near the river. Champlain saw their 
barricade. Trees were piled into a circular breastwork, 
trunks, boughs, and matted foliage forming a strong 
defence, within which, grinding their teeth, the Iroquois 
stood savagely at bay. Around them flocked the allies, 
half hidden in the edges of the forest, like hounds around 
a wild boar, eager, clamorous, yet afraid to rush in. 
They had attacked, and had met a bloody rebuff. All 
their hope was now in the French; and when they saw 
them, a yell arose from liundreds of throats that outdid 
the wilderness-voices whence its tones were borrowed, — 

J "... . quantite de mousquites, qui estoient si espoisses qu'elles 
no nous permettoient point presque de reprendre nostre lialaine, tant 
elles nous persecutoient, et si cruellement que c'estoit chose estrange."^ 
Champlain, (1613,) 250. 



1610.J BATTLE. — VICTORY. gQQ 

the whoop of the horned owl, the scream of the cougar, 
the howl of starved wolves on a winter night. A fierce 
response pealed from the desperate hand within ; and 
amid a storm of arrows from both sides, the Frenchmen 
threw themselves into the fray. Champlain felt a 
stone-headed arrow splitting his ear and tearing through 
the muscles of his neck. He drew it out, and, the mo- 
ment after, did a similar office for one of his men. But 
the Iroquois had by no means recovered from their first 
terror at the arquebuse ; and when the mysterious and 
terrible assailants, clad in steel and armed with portable 
thunder-bolts, ran up to the barricade, thrust their pieces 
through the crevices, and shot death among the crowd 
within, they could not control their fright, but with 
every report threw themselves flat on the earth. Ani- 
mated with unwonted valor, the allies, covered by their 
large shields, began to drag out the felled trees of 
the barricade, while others, under Champlain's direction, 
gathered like a dark cloud at the edge of the forest, 
preparing to close the affair with a final rush. And 
now, new actors appeared on the scene. These were a 
boat's crew of the fur-traders under a young man of 
St. Malo, one Des Prairies, who, when he heard the fir- 
ing, could not resist the impulse to join the fight. On 
seeing them, Champlain checked the assault, in order, 
as he says, that the new-comers might have their share 
in the sport. The traders opened fire, with great zest 
and no less execution ; while the Iroquois, now wild with 
terror, leaped and writhed to dodge the shot which tore 
resistlessly through their frail armor of twigs. Cham- 

28* 



33Q WAR. — TRADE. —DISCO VEEY. [IGIO 

plain g-.'ive the signal ; the crowd ran to the barricade, 
dragi^ed down the boughs or .clambered over them, 
and bore themselves, in his own words, " so well and 
manfully," that, though wofully scratched and torn by 
the sharp points, they quickly forced an entrance. The 
French ceased their fire, and, followed by a smaller body 
of Indians, scaled the barricade on the farther side. 
Now, amid bowlings, shouts, and screeches, the work 
was finished. Some of the Iroquois were cut down as 
they stood, hewing with their war-clubs, and foaming 
like slaughtered tigers ; some climbed the barrier and 
were killed by the furious crowd without ; some were 
drowned in the river ; while fifteen, the only survivors, 
were made prisoners. " By the grace of God," writes 
Champlain, " behold the battle won ! " Drunk with 
ferocious ecstasy, the conquerors scalped the dead and 
gathered fagots for the living, while some of the fur- 
traders, too late to bear part in the fight, robbed the 
carcasses of their blood - bedrenched robes of beaver- 
skin, amid the derision of the surrounding Indians.^ 

That night, the torture-fires blazed along the shore. 
Champlain saved one prisoner from their clutches, but 
nothing could save the rest. One body was quartered 
and eaten.^ Of the remaining captives, some were kept 

1 Cliaraplain, (1613,) 254. This narrative, like most others, is much 
abridged in the edition of 1632. 

2 Traces of cannibalism may be found among most of the North Amer- 
ican tribes, though they are rarely very conspicuous. Sometimes the 
practice arose, as in the present instance, from revenge or ferocity; 
sometimes it bore a religious character, as with the Miamis, among whom 
there existed a secret religious fraternitj' of man-eaters ; sometimes the 
heart of a brave enemv was devoured in the idea tliat it made the eater 



IGIO.] A SAVAGE CONCOUIISE. ^gl 

in reserve for tlie women and young girls, who, as the 
warriors were forced to admit, fer excelled them in the 
art of torture by reason of their feminine subtlety. 

On the next day, a large band of Hurons ajDpeared 
at the rendezvous, greatly vexed that they had come too 
late. The shores were thickly studded with Indian 
huts ; the woods were full of them. Here were war- 
riors of three designations, including many subordinate 
tribes, and representing three grades of savage society. 
Here were the Hurons, the Algonquins of the Ottawa, 
and the Montagnais ; afterwards styled by a Franciscan 
friar, than whom few men better knew them, the No- 
bles, the Burghers, and the Peasantry and Paupers of 
the forest.^ Many of them, from the remote interior, 
had never before seen a white man ; and, wrapped like 
statues in their robes, they stood gazing on the French 
with a fixed stare of wild and wondering eyes. 

Judged by the standard of Indian war, a heavy blow 
had been struck on the common enemy. Here were 
hundreds of assembled warriors ; yet none thought of 
following up their success. Elated wdth unexpected 
fortune, they danced, they sang ; then loaded their 
canoes, hung their scalps on poles, broke up their 
camps, and set forth triumphant for their homes. 
Champlain had fought their battles, and now might 
claim, on their part, guidance and escort to the distant 

brave. This last practice was common. The ferocious threat, used in 
speaking of an enemy, " I will eat liis heart," is by no means a mere fig- 
ure of speecli. The roving hunter -tribes, in tlieir winter wanderings 
were not infrequently impelled to cannibalism by famine. 
^ Sagard, Voyage des Hurons, 181. 



QQ2 WAE. — TRADE.— DISCOVERY. [IGIO 

interior. Why he did not do so is scarcely apparent. 
There were cares, it seems, connected with the very 
life of his puny colony, which demanded his return to 
France. Nor were his anxieties lessened by the arrival 
of a ship from his native town of Brouage, fraught 
with the tidings of the King's assassination. Here was 
a death-blow to all that had remained of De Mouts's 
credit at court ; while that unfortunate nobleman, like 
his old associate, Poutrincourt, was moving with swift 
strides toward financial ruin. With the revocation of 
his monopoly, fur-traders had swarmed to the St. Law- 
rence. Tadoussac was full of them, and for that year 
the trade was spoiled. Far from aiding to support a 
burdensome enterprise of colonization, it was, in itself, 
an occasion of heavy loss, 

Champlain bade farewell to his garden at Quebec, 
where maize, wheat, rye, and barle}', with vegetables of 
all kinds, and a small vineyard of native grapes, — for 
he was a zealous horticulturist,-^ — held forth a promise 
which he was not to see fulfilled. He left one Du Pare 
in command, with sixteen men, and, sailing on the 
eighth of August, arrived at Honfleur with no worse 
accident than that of running over a sleeping whale 
near the Grand Bank. 

With the opening spring he was afloat again. Per- 
ils awaited him worse than those of Iroquois toma- 
hawks ; for, approaching Newfoundland, the ship was 
entangled for days among drifting fields and bergs of 
ice. Escaping at length, she arrived at Tadoussac on 

1 During the next year, lie planted roses around Quebec. Champlain, 
(1613,) r,13. 



1611.J ADVENTURERS. ggg 

the thirteenth of May, 1611. She had anticipated the 
spring. Forests and mountains, far and near, all were 
white with snow. A principal object with Chaniplain 
was to establish such relations with the great Indian 
communities of the interior as to secure to De Monts 
and his associates the advantage of trade with them ; 
and to this end he now repaired to Montreal, a position 
in the gate-way, as it were, of their yearly descents of 
trade or war. On arriving, he began to survey the 
ground for the site of a permanent post. 

A few days convinced him, that, under the present 
system, all his efforts would be vain. Wild reports of 
the wonders of New France had gone abroad, and a 
crowd of hungry adventurers had hastened to the land 
of promise, eager to grow rich, they scarcely knew 
how, and soon to return disgusted. A fleet of boats 
and small vessels followed in Champlain's wake. 
Within a few days, thirteen of them arrived at Mon- 
treal, and more soon appeared. He was to break the 
ground ; others would reap the harvest. Travel, dis- 
covery, and battle, all must inure to the profit, not of 
the colony, but of a crew of greedy traders. 

Champlain, however, chose the site and cleared the 
ground for his intended post. It was immediately 
above a small stream, now running under arches of 
masonry, and entering the St. Lawrence at Point Cal- 
liere, within the modern city. He called it Place 
Royale ; ^ and here, on the margin of the river, he built 

^ The mountain being Mont Royal (Montreal). The Hospital of the 
Gray Nuns was built on a portion cf Champlain's Place Royale. 



33 if WAR. — TRADE. - DISCOVERY. [IGll. 

a wall of bricks made on the spot, in order to meas- 
ure the destructive effects of the " ice - shove " in the 
spring". 

Now, down the surges of St. Louis, where the 
mighty floods of the St. Lawrence, contracted to a nar- 
row throat, roll in fury among their sunken rocks, — 
here, through foam and spray and the roar of the angry 
torrent, a fleet of birch canoes came dancing like dry 
leaves on the froth of some riotous brook. They bore 
a band of Hurons, first at the rendezvous. As they 
drew near the landing, all the fur-traders' boats blazed 
forth in a clattering fusillade, which was designed to bid 
them welcome, but, in fact, terrified many of them to 
such a degree that they scarcely dared to come ashore. 
Nor were they reassured by the bearing of the disorderly 
crowd, who, in jealous competition for their beaver-skins, 
left them not a moment's peace, and outraged all their 
notions of decorum. More soon appeared, till hundreds 
of warriors were encamped along the shore, all restless, 
suspicious, and alarmed. Late one night, they awak- 
ened Champlain. On going with them to their camp, 
he found chiefs and warriors in solemn conclave around 
the glimmering firelight. Though they were fearful of 
the rest, their trust in him was boundless. " Come to 
our country, buy our beaver, build a fort, teach us the 
true faith, do what you will, but do not bring this crowd 
with you." An idea had seized them that these lawless 
liands of rival traders, all well armed, meant to attack, 
phinder, and kill them. Champlain assured them of 
safety, and the whole night was consumed in friendly 



1611.] NAREOW ESCAPE UF CHAMPLAIN. 33,5 

colloquy. Soon afterward, however, the camp broke up, 
and the uneasy warriors removed to the borders of the 
Lake of St. Louis, placing- the rapids betwixt themselves 
and the objects of their alarm. Here Champlain visited 
them, and hence these intrepid canoe-men, kneeling in 
their birchen egg-shells, carried him homeward down 
the rapids, somewhat, as he admits, to the discomposure 
of his nerves.^ 

The great gathering dispersed : the traders descended 
to Tadoussac, Champlain to Quebec ; the Indians went, 
some to their homes, some to fight the L'oquois. A (ew 
months later, Champlain was in close conference with 
De Monts, at Pons, a place near Rochelle, of which 
the latter was governor. The last two years had made 
it apparent, that to keep the colony alive and maintain 
a basis for those discoveries on which his heart was 
bent, was, without a change of system, impossible. 
De Monts, engrossed with the cares of his govern- 
ment, placed all in the hands of his associate, and 
Champlain, fully empowered to act as he should judge 
expedient, set out for Paris. On the way, Fortune, 
at one stroke, wellnigh crushed him and New France 
together ; for his horse fell on him, and he narrowly 
escaped with life. When he was partially recovered, 
he resumed his journey, pondering on means of rescue 

1 The first white man to descend tlie rapids of St. Louis was a youth 
who liad vohinteered, tlie previous summer, to go witli tlie Hurons to 
tlieir country and winter among them, — a proposal to wliich Ciiamphiin 
gladly assented. Tlie second was a young man named Louis, who had 
pone up with Lidians to an ishxnd in the rapid, to shoot herons, and was 
drowned in the descent. The tliird was Champlain himself. 



336 WAR. — TRADE. — DISCOVERY. [1612. 

for the fading colony. A powerful protector must be 
had, — a great name to shield the enterprise from as- 
saults and intrigues of jealous rival interests. On 
reaching Paris, he addressed himself to a prince of' 
the blood, Charles of Bourbon, Comte de Soissons ; 
described New France, its resources, its boundless ex- 
tent, urged the need of unfolding a mystery pregnant 
perhaps with results of the deepest moment, laid before 
him maps and memoirs, and begged him to become the 
guardian of this new world. The royal consent being 
obtained, the Comte de Soissons became Lieutenant- 
General for the King in New France, with viceregal 
powers. These, in turn, he conferred upon Champlain, 
making him his lieutenant, with full control over the 
trade in furs at and above Quebec, and with power to 
associate with himself such persons as he saw fit, to 
aid in the exploration and settlement of the country .^ 

Scarcely was the commission drawn when the Comte 
de Soissons, attacked with fever, died, to the joy of the 
Breton and Norman traders, whose jubilation, however, 
found a speedy end. Henry of Bourbon, Prince of 
Conde, First Prince of the Blood, assumed the vacant 
protectorship. He was grandson of the gay and gal- 
lant Conde of the Civil Wars, was father of the great 
Conde, the man of steel, the youthful victor of Rocroy, 
and was husband of Charlotte de Montmorenci, whose 
blonde beauties had fired the inflammable heart of 



1 Commission de Monseigneur Je Comte de Soissons donn€e au Sieur de 
Chnmplein. See Champlain, (1632,) 231, and M^moires des Commis- 
saires, II. 451. 



1612.1 CONDE. — PLANS OF CHAMPLAIN. 



337 



Henry the Fourth. To the unspeakable wrath of that 
keen lover, the prudent Conde fled with his bride, 
first to Brussels, tlien to Italy ; nor did he return to 
France till the regicide's knife had put his jealous fears 
to rest.^ Arrived, he began to intrigue against the 
court. In 1614, two years after the death of the 
Comte de Soissons, his plots were hatched into life, 
and, after exciting a wild alarm, ended in his three 
years' imprisonment at Vincennes. He was a man 
of common abilities, greedy of money and power, and 
scarcely seeking even the decency of a pretext to cover 
his mean ambition.^ His chief honor — an honor 
somewhat equivocal — is, as Voltaire observes, to have 
been father of the great Conde. Busy with his nas- 
cent conspiracy, he cared little for colonies and dis- 
coveries ; and his rank and j)ower were his sole quali- 
fications for his new post. 

In Champlain alone was the life of New France. 
By instinct and temperament he was more impelled to 
the adventurous toils of exploration than to the duller 
task of building colonies. The profits of trade had 
value in his eyes only as means to these ends, and set- 
tlements were important chiefly as a base of discovery. 
Two great objects eclipsed all others, — to find a route 
to the Indies, and. to bring the heathen tribes into the 
embraces of the Church, since, while he cared little 

^ The anecdote, as told by the Princess herself to her wandering court 
during the romantic campaigning of the Fronde, will be found in the 
curious Memotres de Lenet. 

2 Me'moires de Madame de MotteviUe, passim ; Sismondi, Histoire des 
Francis, XXIV., XXV. passim. 
29 



358 WAR. — TRADE. — DISCOVERY. [1612. 

for their bodies, his solicitude for their souls knew no 
bounds. 

It was no part of his plan to establish an odious 
monopoly. He sought rather to enlist the rival traders 
in his cause ; and he now, in concurrence with De Monts, 
invited them to become sharers in the traffic, under 
certain regulations and on condition of aiding in the 
establishment and support of the colony. The mer- 
chants of St. Malo and Rouen accepted the terms, and 
became members of the new company; but the intrac- 
table heretics of Rochelle, refractory in commerce as in 
religion, kept aloof, and preferred the chances of an 
illicit trade. The prospects of New France were far 
from flattering; for little could be hoped from this 
unwilling league of selfish traders, each jealous of the 
rest. They gave the Prince of Conde large gratuities 
to secure his countenance and support. The hungry 
viceroy took them, and with these emoluments his inter- 
est in the colony ended. 



CHAPTER XII. 

1612, 1613. 
THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. 

Illusions. — A Path to the North Sea. — The Ottawa. — Forest 
Travellers. — Indian Feast. — The Impostor exposed. — Eeturn to 
Montreal. 

TiiE arrangements just indicated were a work of 
time. In the summer of 1612, Champlain was forced 
to forego his yearly voyage to New France ; nor, even 
in the following spring, were his labors finished and the 
rival interests brought to harmony. Meanwhile, inci- 
dents occurred destined to have no small influence on his 
movements. Three years before, after his second fight 
with the Iroquois, a young man of his company had 
boldly volunteered to join the Indians on their home- 
ward journey and winter among them. Champlain 
gladly assented, and in the following summer, the ad- 
venturer returned. Another young man, one Nicholas 
de Vignan, next offered himself; and he, also, embark- 
ing in the Algonquin canoes, passed up the Ottawa 
and was seen no more for a twelvemonth. In 1612 
he reappeared in Paris, bringing a tale of wonders ; for, 
says Champlain, " he was the most impudent liar that 
has been seen for many a day." He averred that at 
the sources of the Ottawa he had found a great lake ; 



340 THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1613. 

that he had crossed it, and discovered a river flowing' 
northward ; that he had descended this river, and 
reached the shores of the sea ; that here he had seen 
the wreck of an English ship, whose crew, escaping to 
land, had been killed by the Indians ; and that this sea 
was distant from Montreal only seventeen days by 
canoe. The clearness, consisitency, and apparent sim- 
plicity of his story deceived Champlain, who had heard 
of a voyage of the English to the northern seas, coupled 
with rumors of wreck and disaster,-^ and was thus con- 
firmed in his belief of Vignan's honesty. The Mare- 
chal de Brissac, the President Jeannin, and other per- 
sons of eminence about the court, greatly interested by 
these dexterous fabrications, urged Champlain to follow 
up without delay a discovery which promised results so 
important ; while he, with the Pacific, Japan, China, the 
Spice Islands, and India stretching in flattering vista 
before his fancy, entered with eagerness on the chase 
of this illusion. Early in the spring of 1613, the 
unwearied voyager crossed the Atlantic, and sailed "up 
the St. Lawrence. On Monday, the twenty -seventh 
of May, he left the island of St. Helen, opposite 
Montreal, with four Frenchmen, one of whom was 
Nicholas de Vignan, and one Indian, in two small 
canoes. They passed the swift current at St. Ann's, 
crossed the Lake of Two Mountains, and advanced up 
the Ottawa till the rapids of Carillon and the Long 

1 Evidently the voyage of Henry Hudson in 1610-12, when that voy 
ager, after discovering Hudson's Strait, lost his life through a mutiny 
Compare Je'reraie, Relation, in Recueil de Voyages uu Nord, VI. 



1613.1 CHAMPLAIN ON THE OTTAWA. 34,1 

Saut checked their aourse. So dense and tangled was 
the forest, that they were forced to remain in the bed 
of the river, trailing their canoes along the bank with 
cords, or pushing them by main force up the' current. 
Champlain's foot slipped ; he fell in the rapids, two 
boulders against which he braced himself saving him 
from being swept down, while the cord of the canoe, 
twisted round his hand, nearly severed it. At length 
they reached smoother water, and presently met fif- 
teen canoes of friendly Indians. Champlain gave 
them the 'most awkward of his Frenchmen and took 
one of their number in return, — an exchange greatly 
to his profit. 

All day they plied their paddles. Night came, and 
they made their camp-fire in the forest. He who now, 
when two centuries and a half are passed, would see 
the evening bivouac of Champlain, has but to encamp, 
with Indian guides, on the upper waters of this same 
Ottawa, — to this day a solitude, — or on the borders 
of some lonely river of New Brunswick or of Maine. 

As, crackling in the forest stillness, the flame cast 
its keen red light around, wild forms stood forth 
against the outer gloom; — the strong, the weak, the 
old, the young ; all the leafy host of the vi^lderness ; 
moss -bearded ancients tottering to their death, sap- 
lings slender and smooth, trunks hideous with wens 
aqd goitres and strange deformity ; the oak, a giant in 
rusty mail ; the Atlantean column of the pine, bearing 
on high its murmuring world of verdure ; the birch, 
ghastly and wan, a spectre in the darkness ; and, aloft, 

29* 



g4f2 THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1613. 

the knotted boughs, uncouth, distorted shapes struggling 
amid dim clouds of foliage. 

The voyagers gathered around the flame, the red 
men and the white, these cross-legged on the earth, 
those crouching like apes, each feature painted in 
fiery light as they waited their evening meal, — trout 
and perch on forked sticks before the scorching blaze. 
Then each spread his couch — boqghs of the spruce, 
hemlock, balsam-fir, or pine — and stretched himself 
to rest. Perhaps, as the night wore on, chilled by 
the river - damps, some slumberer woke, rose, kneeled 
by the sunken fire, spread his numbed hands over the 
dull embers, and stirred them with a half- consumed 
brand. Then the sparks, streaming upward, roamed 
like fire-flies among the dusky boughs. The scared owl 
screamed, and the watcher turned quick glances into 
the dark, lest, from those caverns of gloom, the lurk- 
ing savage might leap upon his defenceless vigil. As 
he lay once more by the replenished fire, sounds stole 
upon his ear, faint, mysterious, startling to the awa- 
kened fancy, — the whispering fall of a leaf, the creak- 
ing of a bough, the stir of some night insect, the soft 
footfall of some prowling beast, from the far-off' shore 
the mournful howl of a lonely wolf, or the leaping of a 
fish where, athwart the pines, the weird moon gleamed 
on the midnight river. 

Day dawned. The east glowed with tranquil fire, that 
pierced, with eyes of flame, the fir - trees whose jagged 
tops stood drawn in black against the burning heaven 
Beneath, the glossy river slept in shadow, or spread 



1613.] THE CHAUDIERE. 34,3 

far and wide in sheets of burnished bronze ; and, in 
the western sky, the white moon hung Hke a disk of 
silver. ' Now, a fervid light touched the dead top of the 
hemlo(.'k, and now, creeping- downward, it bathed the 
mossy beard of the patriarchal cedar, unstirred in 
the breathless air. Now, a fiercer spark beamed from 
the east ; and, now, half risen on the sight, a dome of 
crimson fire, the sun blazed with floods of radiance 
across the awakened wilderness. 

The paddles flashed ; the voyagers held their course. 
And soon the still surface was flecked with spots of 
foam ; islets of froth floated by, tokens of some great 
convulsion. Then, on their left, the falling curtain of 
the Rideau shone like silver betwixt its bordering 
woods, and in front, white as a snow-drift, the cataracts 
of' the Chaudiere barred their way. They saw the 
dark cliffs, gloomy with impending firs, and the darker 
torrent, rolling its mad surges along the gulf between. 
They saw the unbridled river careering down its sheeted 
rocks, foaming in unfathomed chasms, wearying the 
soUtude with the hoarse outcry of its agony and rage. 

On the brink of the rocky basin where the plunging 
torrent boiled like a caldron, and puffs of spray sprang 
out from its concussion like smoke from the throat of 
a cannon, — here Champlain's two Indians took their 
stand, and, with a loud invocation, threw tobacco into the 
foam, an offering to the local spirit^ the Manitou of the 
cataract.-^ 

1 An invariable custom with the upper Indians on passing this place. 
When man}'- -were present, it was attended with solemn dances and 



344 THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1613. 

Over the rocks, through the woods ; then they 
launched their canoes again, and, witli toil and struggle, 
made their amphibious way, now pushing, now drag- 
ging, now lifting, now paddling, now shoving with 
poles. When the evening sun poured its level rays 
across the quiet Lake of the Chaudiere. they landed, 
and made their peaceful camp on the verge of a woody 
island. 

Day by day brought a renewal of their toils. Hour 
by hour, they moved prosperously up the long winding 
of the solitary stream; then, in quick succession, rapid 
followed rapid, till the bed of the Ottawa seemed a 
slope of foam. Now, like a vyall bristling at the top 
with woody islets, the Falls of the Chats faced them 
with the sheer plunge of their sixteen cataracts. Now 
they glided beneath overhanging cliffs, where, seeing 
but unseen, the crouched wild-cat eyed them from the 
thicket ; now through the maze of water-girded rocks, 
which the white cedar and the spruce clasped with ser- 
pent-like roots, or among islands where old hemlocks, 
dead at the top, darkened the water with deep green 
shadow. Here, too, the rock-maple reared its verdant 
masses, the beech its glistening leaves and clean, smooth 
stem, and behind, stiff and sombre, rose the balsam-fir. 
Here, in the tortuous channels, tiie muskrat swam and 
plunged, and the splashing wild duck dived beneath the 



speeches, a contribution of tobacco being first taken on a dish. It was 
tliought to insure a safe voyage ; but was often an occasion of disaster, 
since hostile war-parties, Ij'ing in ambush at the spot, would surprise and 
kill the votaries of the Manitou in the very presence of their guardian. 



1613.] CHAMPLAIN AS A PIONEER. 345 

alders or among the red and matted roots of tliirsty 
water-willows. Aloft, the white pine towered " proudly 
eminent " above a sea of verdure. Old fir-trees, hoary 
and grim, shaggy with pendent mosses, leaned above 
the stream, and beneath, dead and submerged, some 
fallen oak thrust from the current its bare, bleached 
limbs, like the skeleton of a drowned giant. In the 
weedy cove stood the moose, neck-deep in water to escape 
the flies, wading shoreward, with glistening sides, as 
the canoes drew near, shaking his broad antlers and 
writhing his hideous nostril, as with clumsy trot he 
vanished in the woods. 

In these ancient wilds, to whose ever verdant antiq 
uity the pyramids are young and Nineveh a mushroom 
of yesterday ; where the sage wanderer of the Odyssey, 
could he have urged his pilgrimage so far, would have 
surveyed the same grand and stern monotony, the 
same dark sweep of melancholy woods ; and where, as 
of yore, the bear and the wolf still lurk in the thicket, 
and the lynx glares from the leafy bough ; — here, 
while New England was a solitude, and the settlers of 
Virginia scarcely dared venture inland bej'^ond the sound 
of cannon-shot, Champlain w^as planting on shores and 
islands the emblems of his Faith.^ Of the pioneers of 
the North American forests, his name stands foremost 
on the list. It was he who struck the deepest and 
boldest strokes into the heart of their pristine barba- 
rism. At Chantilly, at Fontainebleau, at Paris, in the 

1 They were large crosses of white cedar, placed at various points 
along the river 



34.6 THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1G13. 

cabinets of princes and of royalty itself, mingling with 
the proud vanities of the court; then lost from sight 
in the depths of Canada, the companion of savages, 
sharer of their toils, privations, and battles, more hardy, 
patient, and bold than they ; — such, for successive 
years, were the alternations of this man's life. 

To follow on his trail once more. His Indians said 
that the rapids of the river" above were impassable. 
Nicholas de Vignan affirmed the contrary ; but from 
the first, Vignan had been found always in the wrong. 
His aim seems to have been to involve his leader 
in difficulties, and disgust him with a journey which 
must soon result in exposing the imposture which had 
occasioned it. Champlain took the counsel of the In- 
dians. The party left the river, and entered the forest. 

Each Indian shouldered a'Canoe. The Frenchmen 
carried the baggage, paddles, arms, and fishing-nets. 
Champlaiu's share was three paddles, three arquebuses, 
his capote, and various " bagatelles." Thus they strug- 
gled on, till, at night, tired and half starved, they built 
their fire on the border of a lake, doubtless an expan- 
sion of the river. Here, clouds of mosquitoes gave 
them no peace, and piling decayed wood on the flame, 
they sat to leeward in the smoke. Their march, in the 
morning, was through a pine forest. A whirlwind had 
swept it, and in the track of the tornado the trees lay 
uptorn, inverted, prostrate, and flung in disordered 
heaps, boughs, roots, and trunks mixed in wild con- 
fusion. Over, under, and through these masses the 
travellers made their painful way ; then through the 



1613.] OTTAWA TOWNS. 34,'^ 

pitfalls and impediments of the living forest, till a sunny 
transparency in the screen of young foliage before them 
gladdened their eyes with the assurance that they had 
reached again the banks of the open stream. 

At the point' where they issued it could no longer be 
called a stream, for it was that broad expansion now 
known as Lake Coulange. Below, were the danoerous 
rapids of the Calumet ; above, the river was split into 
two arms, folding in their watery embrace the large 
island called Isle des Allumettes. This neighborhood 
was the seat of the principal Indian population of the 
river, ancestors of the modern Ottawas ; ^. and, as the 

1 Usually called Algoumequins, or Algonquins, by Cliamplain and 
other early writers, — a name now always used in a generic sense to des- 
ignate a large tamily of cognate tribes, speaking languages radically simi- 
lar, and covering a vast extent of country. Tlie Ottawas, however, soon 
became known by their tribal name, written in various forms by French 
and English writers, as Outouais, Outaouaks, Taicaas, Oadauwau^, Outuuies, 
Oittaouacs, Ulairas, Oltawwamoug, Onttoacts, Oatluwaats, Attaicawas. The 
French nicknamed them " Chevenx Releves," from their mode of wearing . 
their hair. Champlain gives the same name to a tribe near Lake Huron. 

The Ottawas or Algonquins of the Isle des Allumettes and its neigh- 
borhood are most frequently mentioned by the early writers as la Nation 
de I'Isle. Lalemant (Relation des Huroiis, 1639) calls them Ehonkeionons. 
Vimont [Relation, 1640) calls them Kichesipirini. The name Algonquin 
was used generally as early as the time of Sagard, whose Ilistoire du 
Canada appeared in 1636. Champlain always limits it to the tribes of 
the Ottawa. 

As the Ottawas were at first called Algonquins, so all the Algonquin 
tribes of the Great Lakes were afterwards, without distinction, called 
Ottawas, because the latter had first become known to the French. 
Dablon, Relution, 1670, c. X. 

Isle des Allumettes was called also Isle du Borgne, from a renowned 
one-eyed chief who made his abode here, and who, after greatly exasper- 
ating the Jesuits by his evil courses, at last became a convert and died in 
the Faith. They regarded the people of this island as the haughtiest of 
all the tribes. Le Jeune, Relation, 1036, 230. 



g4.y THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. fl618. 

canoes advanced, unwonted signs of human life could 
be seen on the borders of tlie lake. Here was a rough 
clearing. The trees had been burned ; tliere was a 
rude and desolate gap in the sombre green of the pine 
forest. Dead trunks, blasted and black with fire, stood 
grimly upright amid the charred stumps and prostrate 
bodies of comrades half consumed. In the intervening 
spaces, the soil had been feebly scratched with hoes of 
wood or bone, and a crop of maize was growing, now 
some four inches high.^ The dwellings of these slov- 
enly farmers, framed of poles covered with sheets of 
bark, were scattered here and there, singly or in groups, 
while their tenants were running to the shore in amaze- 
ment. Warriors stood with their hands over their 
mouths, — the usual Indian attitude of astonishment; 
squaws stared betwixt curiosity and fear ; naked pap- 
pooses screamed and ran. The chief, Nibachis, offered 
the calumet, then harangued the crowd : " These white- 
men must have fallen from the clouds. How else could 
they have reached us through the woods and rapids 
which even we find it hard to passl The French chief 
can do anything. All that we have heard of him must 
be true." And they hastened to regale the hungry vis- 
itors with a repast of fish. 

Champlain asked for guidance to the settlements 
above. It was readily granted. Escorted by Jiis 
friendly hosts, he advanced beyond the head of Lake 

1 Champlain, Qualriesme Voyage, 29. This is a pamplilet of fifty-two 
pages, containing tlie journal of his voyage of 1613, and appai-ently pub- 
lished at the close of that year. 



1613.] OTTAWA CEMETERY. 34,^ 

Coulange, and, landing, saw the unaccustomed sight of 
pathways through the forest. They led to the clearings 
and cabins of a chief named Tessouat, who, amazed at 
the apparition of the white strangers, exclaimed that he 
must be in a dream. ^ Next, the voyagers crossed to 
the neighboring island, then deeply wooded with pine, 
elm, and oak. Here were more desolate clearings, 
more rude cornfields and bark -built cabins. Here, 
too, was a cemetery, which excited the wonder of 
Champlain, for the dead were better cared for than the 
living. Over each grave a flat tablet of wood was 
supported on posts, and at one end stood an upright 
tablet, carved with an intended representation of the 
features of the deceased. If a chief, the head was 
adorned with a plume. If a warrior, there were 
figures near it of a shield, a lance, a war-club, and a 
bow and arrows ; if a boy, of a small bow and one 
arrow ; and if a woman or a girl, of a kettle, an 
earthen pot, a wooden spoon, and a paddle. The whole 
was decorated with red and yellow paint ; and beneath 
slept the departed, wrapped in a robe of skins, his 
earthly treasures about him, ready for use in the land 
of souls. 

Tessouat was to give a tabagie^ or solemn feast, in 
honor of Champlain, and the chiefs and elders . of the 

1 Tessouat's village seems to have been on the Lower Lake des Allu- 
mettes, a wide expansion of that arm of the Ottawa which flows along 
the southera side of Isle des AUuniettes. Cliamplain is clearly wrong, 
by one degree, in his reckoning of the latitude, — 47° for 46°. Tessouat 
was father, or predecessor, of the chief Le Borgne, whose Indian namfl 
was the same. See note, ante, p. 347. 
30 



350 -THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1618. 

island were invited. Runners were sent to summon 
the guests from neighboring hamlets ; and, on the mor- 
row, Tessouat's squaws swept his cabin for the festivity. 
Then Champlain and his Frenchmen were seated on 
skins in the place of honor, and the naked guests ap- 
peared in quick succession, each with his wooden 
dish and spoon, and each ejaculating his guttural salute 
as he stooped at the low door. The spacious cabin 
was full. The congregated wisdom and prowess of 
the nation sat expectant on the bare earth. Each long, 
bare arm thrust forth its dish in turn as the host served 
out the banquet, in which, as courtesy enjoined, he 
himself was to have no share. First, a mess of 
pounded maize wherein were boiled, without salt, mor- 
sels of fish and dark scraps of meat ; then, fish and 
flesh broiled on the embers, with a kettle of cold water 
from the river. Champlain, in wise distrust of Ottawa 
cookery, confined himself to the simpler and less doubt- 
ful viands. A few minutes, and all alike had vanished. 
The kettles were empty. Then pipes were filled and 
touched with fire brought in by the duteous squaws, 
while the young men who had stood thronged about the 
entrance now modestly withdrew, and the door was 
closed for counsel.^ 

First, the pipes were passed to Champlain. Then, 

1 Champlain's account of this feast {Quatriesme Voyage, 32) is unusually 
minute and graphic. In every particular — excepting the pounded maize 
— it miglit, as the writer can attest, be taken as tlie description of a sim- 
ilar feast among some of the tribes of the Far West at the present day, 
as, for example, one of the remoter bands of the Dacotah, a race radi- 
cally distinct from the Algonquin. 



1613.] INDIATSr FEAST. 35J 

for full half an hour, the assembly smoked in silence. 
At length, when the fitting time was come, he addressed 
them in a speech in which he declared, that, moved by 
affection, he visited their country to see its richness and 
its beauty, and to aid them in their wars ; and he now 
begged them to furnish him with four canoes and eight 
men, to convey him to the country of the Nipissings, a 
tribe dwelling northward on the lake which bears their 
name.^ 

His audience looked grave, for they were but cold 
and jealous friends of the Nipissings. For a time they 
discoursed in murmuring tones among themselves, all 
smoking meanwhile with redoubled vigor. Then Tes- 
souat, chief of these forest republicans, rose and spoke 
in behalf of all. 

" We always knew you for our best friend among 
the Frenchmen. We love you like our own children. 
But why did you break your word with us last year 
when we all went down to meet you at Montreal to 
give you presents and go with you to war'? You were 
not there, but other Frenchmen were there who abused 
us. We will never go again. As for the four canoes, 
you shall have them if you insist upon it ; but it grieves 

^ The Nehecerini of Champlain, called also Nipissingues, Nipissiriniens, 
Nibissiriniens, Bissiriniens, Epiciriniens, by various early French writers. 
They are the Askikouanheronons of Lalemant, who borrowed the name 
from the Huron tongue, and were also called Sorciers from their ilLrepute 
as magicians. 

Tiiey belonged, like the Ottawas, to the great Algonquin family, and 
are considered by Charlevoix (Journal Historique, 186) as alone preserv- 
ing the original type of that race and language. They had, however, 
borrowed certain usages from their Huron neighbors. 



352 THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN [1G13. 

US to think cf the hardships you must endure. The 
Nipissings have weak hearts. They are good for 
nothing in war, but they kill us with charms, and they 
poison us. Therefore we are on bad terms with them. 
They will kill you, too." 

Such was the pith of Tessouat's discourse, and at 
each clause, the conclave responded in unison with an 
approving grunt. 

Champlain urged his petition ; sought to relieve their 
tender scruples in his behalf; assured them that he 
was charm-proof, and that he feared no hardships. At 
length he gained his point. The canoes and the men 
were promised, and, seeing himself as he thought on the 
highway to his phantom Northern Sea, he left his en- 
tertainers to their pipes, and with a light heart issued 
from the close and smoky den to breathe the fresh air 
of the afternoon. He visited the Indian fields, with 
their young crops of pumpkins, beans, and French peas, 
■ — the last a novelty obtained from the traders.^ Here, 
Thomas, the interpreter, soon joined him with a coun- 
tenance of ill news. In the absence of Champlain, the 
assembly had reconsidered their assent. The canoes 
were denied. 

With a troubled mind he hastened agfain to the hall 
of council, and addressed the naked senate in terms bet- 
ter suited to his exigencies than to their dignity. 

1 " Pour passer le reste du jour, je fus me pourmeiier par les jardins, 
qui n'estoient remplis que de quelques citrouilles, phasioles, et de nos 
pois, qu'ils commencent a cultiver, ou Thomas, mon truchement, qui en- 
tendoit fort bien la langue, me vint trouver," etc. — Champlain, (1632,) 
1. IV. c. II. 



16i;iJ THE IMPOSTOR UNMASKED. 353 

*' I thought you were men ; I thought you would 
hold fast to your word : but I find you children, with- 
out truth. You call yourselves my friends, yet j'^ou 
break faith with me. Still I would not incommode 
you ; and if you cannot give me four canoes, two will 
serve." -^ 

The burden of the reply was, rapids, rocks, cataracts, 
and the wickedness of the Nipissings. 

" This young man," rejoined Champlain, pointing to 
Vignan, who sat by his side, " has been to their coun- 
try, and did not find the road or the people so bad as 
you have said." 

" Nicholas," demanded Tessouat, " did you say that 
you had been to the Nipissings I " 

The impostor sat mute for a time, then replied, — 

" Yes, I have been there." 

Hereupon an outcry broke forth from the assem- 
bly, and their small, deep-set eyes were turned on him 
askance, "as if," says Champlain, " they would have 
torn and eaten him." 

" You are a liar," returned the unceremonious host ; 
" you know very well that you slept here among my 
children every night and rose again every morning ; 
and if you ever went where you pretend to have gone, 
it must have been when you were asleep. How can you 
be so impudent as to lie to your chief, and so wicked as 
to risk his life among so many dangers ? He ought to 

^ " . . • . et leur dis, que je les avois jusques a ce jour estimez 
hommos, et veritables, et que maintenant ils se monstroient enfants et 
mensongers," etc. — Champlain, (1632,) 1. IV. c. 11. 
30* 



g54 THE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1613. 

kill you with tortures worse than those witli which we 
kill our enemies." ^ 

Champlain urged him to reply, but he sat motion- 
less and dumb. Then he led him from the cabin and 
conjured him to declare if, in truth, he had seen this 
sea of the North. Vignan, w^ith oaths, affirmed that 
all he had said was true. Returning to the council, 
Champlain repeated his story : how he had seen the 
sea, the wreck of an English ship, eighty English 
scalps, and an English boy, prisoner among the In- 
dians. 

At this, an outcry rose, louder than before. 

" You are a liar." " Which way did you go "? " 
" By what rivers '? " " By what lakes 1 " " Who 
went with you 1 " 

Vignan had made a map of his travels, which 
Champlain now produced, desiring him to explain it 
to his questioners; but his assurance had failed him, 
and he could not utter a word. 

Champlain was greatly agitated. His hopes and 
heart were in the enterprise ; his reputation was in a 
measure at stake ; and now, when he thought his tri- 
umph so near, he shrank from believing himself the 

1 " Alors Tessouat .... luy dit en son langage : Nicholas, est-il vray 
que tu as dit avoir este aux Nebecerini ? II tut longtenips sans parler, 
puis il leur dit en leur langue, qu'il parloit aucunement : Ouy j'y ay este. 
Aussitost ils le regarderent de travers, et se jettant sur luy, comme s'ils 
I'eussent voulu manger ou deschirer, firent de grands cris, et Tessouat 
luy dif: Tu es un asseure' menteur : tu syais bien que tons les soirs tu 
couchois a raes costez avec mes enfants, et tons les matins tu t'y levois : 
situ as este vers oes peuples, f'a este en dormant." etc. — Champlain, 
(1632,) 1. IV. c. II. 



1613.J RETURN TO MONTREAL. 355 

sport of an impudent impostor. The council broke 
up ; the Indians displeased and moody, and he, on his 
part, full of anxieties and doubts. At length, one of 
the canoes being ready for departure, the time of deci- 
sion came, and he called Vignan before him. 

" If you have deceived me, confess it now, and the 
past shall be forgiven. But if you persist, you will 
soon be discovered, and then you shall be hanged." 

Vignan pondered for a moment ; then fell on his 
knees, owned his treachery, and begged for mercy, 
(^hamplain broke into a rage, and, unable, as he says, 
to endure the sight of him, ordered him from his pres- 
ence, and sent the interpreter after him to make further 
examination. Vanity, the love of notoriety, and the 
hope of reward, seem to have been his inducements; for 
he had, in truth, spent a quiet winter in Tessouat's 
cabin, his nearest approach to the Northern Sea ; and 
he had flattered himself that he might escape the neces- 
sity of guiding his commander to this pretended dis- 
covery. The Indians were somewhat exultant. " Why 
did you not listen to chiefs and warriors, instead of 
believing the lies of this fellow 1 " And they counselled 
Champlain to have him killed at once, adding that 
they would save their friends trouble by taking that 
office upon themselves. 

No motive remaining for farther advance, the party 
set f"orth on their return, attended by a fleet of forty 
canoes bound to Montreal ^ for trade. They passed 

^ The name is used here for distinctness. The locality is indicated by 
Champlain as le Saut, from the Saut St. Louis, immediately above. 



356 '^HE IMPOSTOR VIGNAN. [1013 

the perilous rapids of the Calumet, and were one night 
encamped on an island, when an Indian, slumbering in 
an uneasy posture, was visited with a nightmare. He 
leaped up with a yell, screamed that somebody was kill- 
ing him, and ran for refuge into the river. Instantly all 
his companions were on their feet, and hearing in fancy 
the Iroquois war-whoop, they took to the water, splash- 
ing, diving, and wading up to their necks in the blind- 
ness of their fright. Champlam and his Frenchmen, 
roused at the noise, snatched their weapons and looked 
in vain for an enemy. The panic-stricken warriors, 
reassured at length, waded crestfallen ashore, and the 
whole ended in a laugh. 

At the Chaudiere, an abundant contribution of to- 
bacco was collected on a wooden platter, and, after a 
solemn harangue, was thrown to the guardian Manitou. 
On the seventeenth of June they approached Montreal, 
where the assembled traders greeted them with dis- 
charges of small arms and cannon. Here, among the 
rest, was Champlain's lieutenant, Du Pare, with his 
men, who had amused their leisure with hunting, and 
were revelling in a sylvan abundance, while their baffled 
chief, with worry of mind, fatigue of body, and a Lenten 
diet of half -cooked fish, was grievously fallen away 
in flesh and strength. He kept his word with De. 
Vignan, left the scoundrel unpunished, bade farewell to 
the Indians, and, promising to rejoin them the next 
year, embarked in one of the trading-ships for France. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

1615. 
DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. 

Relioious Zeal of Chajiplain. — Eecollet Friars. — St. Francis. — 
Exploration and War. — Le Caron on the Ottawa. — Champi^is 
REACHES Lake Huron. — The Huron Towns. — Mass in the Wilder- 
ness. 

In New France, spiritual and temporal interests 
were inseparably blended, and, as will hereafter appear, 
the conversion of the Indians became vital to commer- 
cial and political g-rowth. But, with the single-hearted 
founder of the colony, considerations of material advan- 
tage, though clearly recognized, were no less clearly 
subordinate. He would fain rescue from perdition a 
people living, as he says, '• like brute beasts, without 
faith, without law, without religion, without God." 
While the want of funds and the indifference of his mer- 
chant associates, who as yet did not fully see that their 
trade would find in the missions its surest ally, were 
threatening to wreck his benevolent schemes, he found a 
kindred spirit in his friend Houel, Secretary to the King 
and comptroller-general of the salt-works of Brouag'e. 
Near this town was a convent of Recollet friars, some 
of whom were well known to Houel. To them he 
addressed himself; and several of the brotherhood, " in- 
Hiimed," we are told, " with charity," were eager to 



358 DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. [1615. 

undertake the mission. But the Recollets, mendicants 
by profession, were as weak in resources as Champlain 
himself. He repaired to Paris, then filled with bishops, 
cardinals, and nobles, assembled for the States-General. 
Responding to his appeal, they subscribed fifteen hun- 
dred livres for the purchase of vestments, candles, and 
ornaments for altars. The Pope authorized the mis- 
sion, and the King gave letters-patent in its favor.^ 

The Recollets form a branch of the great Franciscan 
order, founded early in the thirteenth century by St. 
Francis of Assisi. Saint, hero, or madman, according 
to the point of view from which he is regarded, he 
belonged to an era of the Church when the tumult of 
invading heresies awakened in her defence a band of 
impassioned champions, widely different from the placid 
saints of an earlier age. He was very young when 
dreams and voices began to reveal to him his vocation, 
and kindle his high-wrought nature to sevenfold heat. 
Self-respect, natural affection, decency, became in his 
eyes but stumbling-blocks and snares. He robbed his 
father to build a church ; and, like so many of the Ro- 
man Catholic saints, confounded filth with humility, 
exchanged clothes with beggars, and walked the streets 
of Assisi in rags amid the hootings of his townsmen. 
He vowed perpetual poverty and perpetual beggary, and, 
in token of his renunciation of the world, stripped him- 
self naked before the Bishop of Assisi ; then begged 
of him in charity a peasant's mantle. Crowds gath- 

^ The papal brief and the royal letter are in Sagard, Hist, de la Nou- 
velle France, and Le Clerc, EtahUssement de la Foy. 



1615.] RECOLLET FRIAES. $59 

ered to his fervid and dramatic eloquence. His hand- 
ful of disciples multiplied with an amazing increase. 
Europe became thickly dotted with their convents. At 
the end of the eighteenth century, the three Orders of 
St. Francis numbered a hundred and fifteen thousand 
friars and twenty-eight thousand nuns. Four jiopes, 
forty-five cardinals, and forty-six canonized martyrs 
were enrolled on their record, besides about two thou- 
sand more who had shed their blood for the Fuith.^ 
Their missions embraced nearly all the known world ; 
and in 1621, there were, in Spanish America alone, five 
hundred Franciscan convents.^ 

In process of time the Franciscans had relaxed their 
ancient rigor; but much of their pristine spirit still 
subsisted in the Recollets, a reformed branch of the 
Order, sometimes known as Franciscans of the Strict 
Observance. 

Four friars were named for the mission of New 
France, — Denis Jamet, Jean Dolbeau, Joseph le Caron, 
and Pacifique du Plessis. " They packed their church 
ornaments," says Champlain, "and we, our luggage." 
All alike confessed their sins, and, embarking at Hon- 
fleur, reached Quebec at the end of May, 1615. Great 
was the j)erplexity of the Indians as the apostolic men- 
dicants lauded beneath the rock. Their garb was a 
form of that common to the brotherhood of St. Fran- 
cis, consisting of a rude garment of coarse gray cloth, 

^ Helyot, Hhtoire des Ordres Relirjieux et MiUtaires, devotes his sevf-nth 
volume (ed. 1792) to the Franciscans and Jesuits. He draws largely from 
the great work of Wadding on tlie Franciscans 

2 Le Cierc, EtaUissenieiit de la Foy, I. 33-52. 



360 DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. [1615. 

girt at the waist with the knotted cord of the Order, 
and furnished with a peaked hood, to be drawn over 
the head. Their naked feet were shod with wooden 
sandals, more than an inch thick.^ 

Their first care was to choose a site for their con- 
vent, near the fortified dwellings and storehouses built 
by Champlain. This done, they made an altar, and 
celebrated the first mass ever said in Canada. Dolbeau 
was the officiating priest ; all New France kneeled on 
the bare earth around him, and cannon from the ship 
and the ramparts hailed the mystic rite.^ Then, in 
imitation of the Apostles, they took counsel together, 
and assigned to each his province in the vast field of 
their mission: to Le Caron, the Hurons, and to Dol- 
beau, the Montagnais; while Jamet and Du Plessis were 
to remain for the present near Quebec. 

Dolbeau, full of zeal, set forth for his post, and, in 
the next winter, essayed to follow the roving hordes of 
Tadoussac to their frozen hunting-grounds. He was 
not robust, and his eyes were weak. Lodged in a hut 
of birch-bark, full of abominations, dogs, fleas, stench, 
and all uncleanness, he succumbed at length to the 
smoke, which had wellnigh blinded him, forcing him 
to remain for several days with his eyes closed.^ After 
debating within himself whether God required of him 
the sacrifice of his sight, he solved his doubts with a 
negative, and returned to Quebec, only to set forth 

1 An engraving of their habit will be found in Helyot, (1792). 

2 Lettre da P. Jean Dolbeau an P. Didare David, son ami; de Quebec le 20 
Ji.illet, 1615. See Le Clerc, EUiblissement de la Foy, I. 62. 

^ Sagard, Hist, de la NouvelJe France, 26. 



1615.] POLICY OF CHAMPLAIN. S61 

jagaiii with opening spring on a tour so extensive, that 
it brought him in contact with outlying bands of the 
Esquimaux.^ Meanwhile Le Caron had long been ab- 
sent on a mission of more noteworthy adventure. 

While his brethren were building their convent and 
garnishing their altar at Quebec, the ardent friar had 
hastened to the site of Montreal, then thronged with a 
savage concourse, come down for the yearly trade. He 
mingled with them, studied their manners, tried to learn 
their languages ; and when, soon after, Champlain and 
Pontgrave arrived, he declared his purpose of winter- 
ing in their villages. Dissuasion availed nothing. 
" What," he demanded, " are privations to him whose 
life is devoted to perpetual poverty, who has no am- 
bition but to serve God 1 " 

The assembled Indians were more eager for temporal 
than for spiritual succor, and beset Champlain with im- 
portunate clamors for aid against the Iroquois. He 
and Pontgrave were of one mind. The aid demanded 
must be given, and that from no motive of the hour, 
but in pursuance of a deliberate policy. It was evident 
that the innumerable tribes of New France, otherwise 
divided, were united in a common fear and hate of 
these formidable bands, who, in the strength of their 
fivefold league, spread havoc and desolation through all 
the surrounding wilds. It was the aim of Champlain, 
as of his successors, to persuade the threatened and 
endangered hordes to live at peace with each other, and 
to form, figainst the common foe, a virtual league, of 

1 Le Clerc, Etablissement de la Foy, I. 71. 
31 



352 DISCOVERY OF LAKE HUKON. [1616. 

which the French colony would be the heart and the 
head, and which would continually widen with the wi- 
dening area of discovery. With French soldiers to fight 
their battles, French priests tobaptize them, and French 
traders to supply their increasing wants, their depend- 
ence would be complete. They would become assured 
tributaries to the growth of New France. It was a 
triple alliance of soldier, priest, and trader. The sol- 
dier might be a roving knight, the priest a martyr and 
a saint; but both alike were subserving tlie interests 
of that commerce which formed the only solid basis of 
the colony. The scheme of English colonization made 
no account of the Indian tribes. In the scheme of 
French colonization they were all in all. 

In one point the plan was fatally di?fective, since it 
involved the deadly enmity of a race whose character 
and whose power were as yet but ill understood, — the 
fiercest, the boldest, the most politic, and the most am- 
bitious savages to whom the American forest has ever 
given birth and nurture. 

The chiefs and warriors met in council, — Algonquins 
of the Ottawa, Hurons from the borders of the great 
Fresh Water Sea. Ciiamplain promised to join them 
with all the men at his command, while they, on their 
part, were to muster without delay twenty-five hundred 
warriors for an inroad into the country of the Iroquois. 
He descended at once to Quebec for needful prepara- 
tion ; but when, after a short delay, he returned to Mon- 
treal, he found, to his chagrin, a solitude. The wild 
concourse had vanished ; nothing remained but the 



1615.] LE CARON'S JOURNEY. QQQ 

skeleton poles of their huts, the smoke of their fires, 
and the refuse of their encampments. Impatient at his 
delay, they had set forth for their villages,, and with 
them had g'one Father Joseph le Caron. 

Twelve Frenchmen, well armed, had attended him. 
Summer was at its height, and as his canoe stole along 
the still hosom of the glassy river, — as the friar 
gazed about him on the tawny multitude whose fragile 
craft, like swarms of gliding insects, covered the breath- 
less water, — he bethought him, perhaps, of his white- 
washed cell in the convent of Brouage, of his book, his 
table,' his rosary, and all the narrow routine of that 
familiar life from which he had awakened to contrasts 
so startling-. That his progress up the Ottawa was far 
from being an excursion of pleasure, is attested by his 
letters, fragments of which have come down to us. 

" It would be hard to tell you," he writes to a friend, 
" how tired I was with paddling all day, with all my 
strength, among the Indians; wading the rivers a hun- 
dred times and more, through the mud and over the 
sharp rocks that cut my feet ; carrying the canoe and 
luggage through the woods to avoid the rapids and 
frightful cataracts ; aud half starved all the while, for 
we had nothing to eat but a little sccffamite, a sort of 
porridge of water and pounded maize, of which they 
gave us a very small allowance every morning and 
night. But I must needs tell you what abundant con- 
solation I found under all my troubles ; for when one 
sees so many infidels needing nothing but a drop of 
water to make them children of God, he feels an inex-» 



,564* DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. ■ [I6I0. 

pressible ardor to labor for their conversion, and sacri- 
fice to it his repose and his life." ^ 

While the devoted missionary toiled painfully towards 
the scene of his apostleship, the no less ardent soldier 
was following on his track. Champlain, with two canoes, 
ten Indians, Etienne Brule his interpreter, and another 
Frenchman, pushed up the riotous stream till he reached 
the Alg-onquin villages which had formed the term of 
his former journeying. He passed the two lakes of 
the Allumettes ; and now, for twenty miles, the Ottawa 
stretched before him, straight as the bee can fly, deep, 
narrow, and black, between its mountain-shores. He 
passed the rapids of the Joachims and the Caribou, — 
the Rocher Capital ne, where the angry current whirls 
in its rocky prison, — the Deux Rivieres, where it bursts 
its mountain-barrier, — and reached at length the trib- 
utary waters of the Mattawan. He turned to the left, 
ascended this little stream, forty miles or more, and, 
crossing a portage-track, well trodden, stood on th& 
margin of Lake Nipissing. The canoes were launched 
again. All day, they glided by leafy shores and ver- 
dant islands floating on the depth of blue. And now 
appeared unwonted signs of human life, clusters of bark 

1". . . . Car lielas quand on voit unsi grandnoQibre d'Infidels, etqu'il 
ne tient qu'a une goutte d"eau pour les rendre enfans de Dieu, on ressent 
je ne sgay quelle ardeur de travailler a leur conversion et d'y sacrifier son 
repos et sa vie." — Le Caron in Le Clerc, I. 74. Le Clerc, usually exact, 
affixes a wrong date to Le Caron's departure, which took place, not in the 
autumn, but about the first of July, Champlain following on the ninth. 
Of the last writer the editions consulted have been those of UViO and 
1627, the narrative being abridged in the edition of lGo2. Compare 
Sagard, lllst. de la Nouvelle France 



1615.] LAKE HURON. gC)5 

lodges, half hidden in the vastness of the woods. It 
was the village of an Algonquin hand, called hy cour- 
tesy a nation, the Nipissings, a race so heset with 
spirits, so infested hy demons, and ahounding- in magi- 
cians, that the Jesuits, in after-years, stigmatized them 
all as " the Sorcerers." In this questionable company 
Champlain spent two days, feasted on fish from the lake, 
deer and bears from the forest. Then, descending to 
the outlet of the water, his canoes floated westward 
down the current of French River. 

Days passed, and no sight of human form had enliv- 
ened the rocky desolation. Hunger was pressing them 
hard, for the ten gluttonous Indians had devoured al- 
ready their vvhole provision for the voyage, and they 
were forced to subsist on the blueberries and wild rasp- 
berries that grew abundantly in the meagre soil, when 
suddenly they encountered a troop of three hundred 
Indians, whom, from their ' bizarre and startling mode 
of wearing their hair, Champlain named the Cheveux 
Releves. " Not one of our courtiers," he says, " takes 
so much pains in dressing his locks." Here, how- 
ever, their care of the toilet ended ; for, though tattooed 
on various parts of the body, and armed with bows, 
arrows, and shields of bison-hide, they wore no cloth- 
ing whatever. Savage as was their aspfect, they were 
busied in the pacific task of gathering blueberries for 
their winter store. Their demeanor, too, was friendly; 
and from them the voyager learned that the great lake 
of the Hurons was close at hand.^ 

* These savages belonged to a numerous Algonquin tribe who occupied 
31* 



356 DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. |1G15. 

Now, far along the western sky was traced the 
watery line of that inland ocean, and, first of white 
men, save the humble friar, Champlain beheld the"Mer 
Douce," the Fresh Water Sea of the Hurons. Before 
him, too far for sight, lay the spirit-haunted Manitoua- 
lins, and, southward, spread the vast bosom of the 
Georgian Bay. For more than a hundred miles, his 
course was along its eastern shores, through tortuous 
channels of islets countless as the sea-sands, — an archi- 
pelago of rocks worn for ages by the wash of waves. 
Not to this day does the handiwork of man break the 
savage charm of those lonely coasts. He crossed Byng 
Inlet, Franklin Inlet, Parry Sound, and the wider bay 
of Matchedash, and seems to have debarked at the inlet 
now called Thunder Bay, at the entrance of the Bay 
of Matchedash and a little west of the Harbor of Peue- 
tanguishine. 

An Indian trail led inland, now through woods and 
thickets, now across broad meadows, over brooks, and 
along the skirts of green acclivities. To the eye of 
Champlain, accustomed to the desolation he had left 
behind, it seemed a land of beauty and abundance. 
There was a broad opening in the forest, fields of maize, 
idle pumpkins ripening in the sun, patches of sunflow- 
ers, from the seeds of which the Indians made hair-oil, 

a district west and southwest of the Nottawassaga Bay of Lake Huron, 
within the modern counties of Bruce and Grey, Canada West. Sagard 
speaks of meeting a party of them near the place wliere they were met 
by Champlain. Sagard, Grand Voyage da Pays des Hurons, 77- The Ot- 
tawas, a kindred people, were afterwards, as already mentioned, called 
Cheveux Rdeves by the French. 



1615.] THE HURONS. QQ^ 

and, in the midst, the Huron town of Otouacha. In 
all essential points, it resembled that which Cartier, 
eighty years before, had seen at Montreal : the same 
triple palisade of crossed and intersecting trunks, and 
the same long lodges of bark, each containing many 
households. Here, within an area of sixty or seventy 
miles, was the seat of one of the most remarkable sav- 
age communities of the continent. By the Indian 
standard, it was a mighty nation ; yet the entire Huron 
population did not exceed that of a second or third class 
American city, and the draft of twenty-five hundred 
warriors pledged to Champlain must have left its sev- 
enteen or eighteen villages bereft of fighting men.^ 

Of this people, its tragic fate, and the heroic lives 
spent in ministering to it, I purpose to speak more fully 
in another work. To the south and southeast lay other 
tribes of kindred race and tongue, all stationary, all 
tillers of the soil, and all in a state of social advance- 
ment when compared with the roving bands of Eastern 
Canada : the Neutral Nation ^ west of the Niagara, and. 
the Eries and Andastes in Western New York and 
Pennsylvania ; while from the Genesee eastward to the 
Hudson lay the banded tribes of the Iroquois, leading 
members of this potent family, deadly foes of their 
kindred, and at last their destroyers. 

1 Tlie number of villages is Champlain's estimate. Le Jeune, Sagard, 
and Lalemant afterwards reckoned them at from twenty to thirty-two. 
Le Clerc, following Le Caron, makes the population about ten thousand 
souls ; but several later observers set it at above thirty thousand. 

2 A warlike people, called Neutral from their neutrality between the 
Hurons and the Iroquois, which did not save them from sharing the dp 
Btruction which overwhelmed the former 



368 DISCOVERY OF LAKE HURON. [1G15. 

In Champlain the Hurons beheld the champion who 
was to lead them to assured victory. In tlie great 
lodge at Otouacha there was bountiful feasting in his 
honor, and consumption without stint of corn, pump- 
kins, and fish. Other welcome, too, was tendered, of 
which the Hurons were ever liberal, but which, with 
all courtesy, was declined by the virtuous Champlain. 
Next, he went to Carmaron, a league distant ; then to 
Touagualnchain and Tequinonquihaye ; till at length he 
reached Carhagouha, with its triple palisade thirty-five 
feet high, and its dark throngs of mustering warriors. 
Here he found Le Caron. The Indians, eager to do 
him honor, had built for him a bark lodge in the 
neighboring forest, fashioned like their own, but much 
smaller. Here the friar had made an altar, garnishing 
it with those indispensable decorations which he had 
borne with him through all the vicissitudes of his pain- 
ful journeying ; and hither, night and day, came a 
curious multitude to listen to his annunciations of the 
novel doctrine. It was a joyful hour when he saw 
Champlain approach his hermitage ; and the 'two men 
embraced like brothers long sundered. 

The twelfth of August was a day evermore marked 
with white in the friar's calendar. Arrayed in priestly 
vestments, he stood before his simple altar ; behind him 
his little band of Christians, — the twelve Frenchmen 
who had attended him, and the two who had followed 
Champlain. Here stood their devout and valiant chief, 
and, at his side, the dauntless woodsman, pioneer of 
pioneers, Etienne Brule, the interpreter. The Host 



1615.] THE FIRST MASS. ggQ 

was raised aloft ; the worshippers kneeled. Then their 
rough voices joined in the hymn of praise, Te Deum 
laudamus ' and then a volley of their guns proclaimed 
the triumph of the Faith to the oHes, mamtous, and all 
the brood of anomalous devils who had reigned with 
undisputed sway in these vvild realms of darkness. The 
brave friar, a true soldier of the Church, had led her 
forlorn hope into the fastnesses of Hell ; and now, with 
cont'.'nted heart, he might depart in peace, for he had 
«3id the first mass in the country of the Hurons. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

1615, 1616. 

THE GREAT WAR-PARTY, 

Mdster of Warriors. ^ Departuek. — The Eiver Trent. — Lake On- 
tario. — The Iroquois '!V)^v^'s. — Attack. — Repulse. — Champlain 

WOUNDED. ReTRKAT. ADVENTURES OF EtIENNE BrULE. — WlNTEP 

Hunt. — Champlain lost in the Forest. — Made Umpire of Indian 
Quarrels. 

Weary of the inanity of the Indian town — idleness 
without repose, for they would never leave him alone 
— and of the continuous feasting with which they 
nearly stifled him, Champlain, with some of liis French- 
men, set forth on a tour of observation. Journeying" at 
their ease by the Indian trails, they visited, in three 
•days, five palisaded villages. The country delighted 
them : its meadows, its deep woods, its pine and cedar 
thickets, full of hares and partridges, its wild grapes 
and plun»s, cherries, crab-apples, nuts, and raspberries. 
It was the seventeenth of August when they reached 
the Huron metropolis, Cahiague, in the modern town- 
ship of Orillia, three leagues west of the River Severn, 
by which Lake Simcoe pours its waters into the bay of 
Matchedash. A shrill clamor of rejoicing, the fixed 
stare of wondering squaws, and the screaming flight 
of terrified children, hailed the arrival of Champlain. 
By his estimate, the place contained two hundred lodges ; 



1615.] HURON WARRIORS. ^| 

but they must have been relatively small, since, had 
they been of the enormous capacity sometimes found 
in these structures, Cahiague alone would have held 
the whole Huron population. Here was the chief ren- 
dezvous, and the town swarmed with gathering war- 
riors. There was cheering news ; for an allied nation, 
probably the Eries, had promised to join the Hurons 
in the enemy's country, with five hundred men.-' Feasts 
and the war-dance consumed the days, till at length the 
tardy bands had all arrived; and, shouldering their ca- 
noes and scanty baggage, the naked host set forth. 

At the outlet of Lake Simcoe, they all stopped 
to fish, — their simple substitute for a commissariat. 
Hence, too, the intrepid Etienne Brule, at his own 
request, was sent with twelve Indians to hasten forward 
the five hundred allied warriors, — a venture of deadly 
hazard, since his course must lie through the borders 
of the Iroquois. 

It was the eighth of September, and Champlain, 
shivering in his blanket, awoke to see the bordering 
meadows sparkling with an early frost, soon to vanish 
under the bright autumnal sun. The Huron fleet pur- 
sued its course along the bosom of Lake Simcoe, up 
the little River Talbot, across the portage to Balsam 
Lake, and down the chain of lakes which form the 
sources of the River Trent. As the long line of canoes 
moved on its devious way^ no human life was seen, no 

1 Champlain, (1627,) 31. Wliile the French were aiding the Hurons 
against tlie Iroquois, the Dutch on the Hudson aided the Iroquois ngainst 
this nation of allies, who captured three Dutchmen, but are said to have 
set them free in the belief that they were French. Ibid. 



gyg THE GREAT WAR-PARTY. [1G15. 

sign of friend or foe. Yet, at times, to the fancy of 
Chainplain, the borders of the stream seemed decked 
with groves and shrubbery by the hands of man, and 
mighty walnut-trees, laced with grape - vines, seemed 
decorations of a pleasure-ground. 

They stopped and encamped for a deer-hunt. Five 
hundred Indians, in line, like the skirmishers of an 
army advancing to battle, drove the game to the end 
of a woody point; and the canoe-men killed them with 
spears and arrows as they took to the river. Champlain 
and his men keenly relished the sport, but paid a heavy 
price for their pleasure. A Frenchman, firing at a 
buck, brought down an Indian, and there was need of 
a liberal largess to console the sufferer and his friends. 

The canoes now issued from the mouth of the Trent. 
Like a flock of venturous wild-fowl, they put boldly 
forth upon the broad breast of Lake Ontario, crossed it 
in safety, and landed within the borders of New York, 
on or near the point of land west of Hungry Bay. 
After hiding their light craft in the woods, the warriors 
took up their swift and wary march, filing in silence 
between the woods and the lake, for twelve miles along 
the pebbly strand. Then they struck inland, threaded 
the forest, crossed the River Onondaga, and after a 
march of four days, were deep within the western lim- 
its of the Iroquois. Some of their scouts met a fish- 
ing-party of this people, and. captured them, eleven in 
number, rnen, women, and children. They were brought 
to the camp of the exultant Hurons. As a beginning 
of the jubilation, a chief cut off" a finger of one of the 



1615.] IROQUOIS FORTIFICATION. QJ^ 

women ; but desisted from farther torturing on the an- 
gry protest of Champlain, reserving that pleasure for 
a more convenient season. 

Light broke in upon the forest. The hostile tov^^n 
was close at hand. Rugged fields lay before them, 
with a slovenly and savage cultivation. The young 
Hurons in advance saw the Iroquois at work among 
the pumpkins and maize, gathering their rustling har- 
vest, for it was the tenth of October. Nothins" could 
restrain the hare-brained and ungoverned crew. They 
screamed their war-cry and rushed in ; but the Iroquois 
snatched their weapons, killed and wounded five or six 
of the assailants, and drove back the rest discomfited. 
Champlain and his Frenchmen were forced to inter- 
pose ; and the crack of their pieces froni the border of 
the woods stopped the pursuing enemy, who withdrew 
to their defences, bearing with them their dead and 
wounded.^ 

It was a town of the Senecas, the most populous 
and one of the most warlike of the five Iroquois tribes ; 
and its site was on or near one of the lakes of central 
New York, perhaps Lake Canandaigua.^ Champlain 

^ Le Clerc, I. 79-87, gives a few particulars not mentioned by Cham- 
plain, whose account will be found in the editions of 1620, 1627, and 
1632. 

^ There can be no doubt that the Entouohronons, or Ontouoronons of 
Champlain were the Senecas, whose western limit at this period was the 
Genesee. Lake Ontario, the Lac St. Louis of the French, was called by 
the Hurons the Lake of the Ontouoronons. Hence its present name. 

It is impossible, from Champlain's account, to identify the precise posi- 
Hon of the town attacked. O. H. Marshall, Esq., in an excellent lecture . 
on early western exploration, published in the Western Literarij Messen- 
ger, alluding to this expedition, speaks of the town as situated on Lak» 
32 



374. THE GREAT WAR-PARTY. f]616. 

describes its defensive works as much stroiiffer than 
those of the Huron villages. They consisted of four 
concentric rows of palisades, formed of trunks and trees, 
thirty feet high, set aslant in the earth, and intersecting 
each other near the top, where they supported a kind 
of gallery, well defended by shot -proof timber, and 
furnished with wooden gutters for quenching fire. A 
pond or lake, which washed one side of the palisade, 
and was led by sluices within the town, gave an ample 
supply of water, while the galleries were well provided 
with magazines of stones. 

(yhamplain was greatly exasperated at the desultory 
and futile procedure of his Huron allies. At their even- 
ing camp in the adjacent forest, he upbraided the throng 
of chiefs and warriors somewhat sharply, and, having 
finished his admonition, he proceeded to instruct them 
in the art of war. In the morning, aided doubtless by 
his ten or twelve Frenchmen, they betook themseh^es 
with alacrity to their prescribed task. A wooden tower 
was made, high enough to overlook the palisade, and 
large enough to shelter four or five marksmen. Huge 
wooden shields, or movable parapets, like the mantelets 
of the Middle Ages, were also constructed. Four hours 
sufficed to finish the work, and then the assault began. 
Two hundred of the strongest warriors, with unwonted 
prowess, dragged the tower forward, and planted it 

Onoiulaga. He is followed by Brodhead, History of New York, and Clark, 
History of Onondaga. It must, however, have been further westward, as 
the eastern borders of the Ontouoronons or Senecas were at some distance 
west of Lake Onondaga. The suggestion of Lake Canandaigua is due 
to Dr. O'Callaghan 



1615.] CHAISIPLAIN WOUNDED. g-TJ 

within a pike's length of the palisade. Three arqne- 
busiers mounted to the top, and opened a raking fire 
along the galleries, now thronged with wild and naked 
defenders. But nothing could restrain the ungov- 
ernable Hurons. They abandoned their mantelets, and, 
deaf to every command, swarmed out like bees upon 
the open field, leaped, shouted, shrieked their war-cries, 
and shot off' their arrows; while the Iroquois, hurling 
defiance from their ramparts, sent back a shower of 
stones and arrows in reply. A Huron, bolder than the 
rest, ran forward with firebrands to burn the palisade, 
and others followed with wood to feed the flame. But 
it was stupidly kindled on the leeward side, without the 
protecting shields designed to cover it ; and torrents of 
water, poured down from the gutters above, quickly 
extinguished it. The confusion was redoubled. Cham- 
plain strove in vain to restore order. Each warrior 
was yelling at the top of his throat, and his voice was 
drowned in the outrageous din. Thinking, as he says, 
that his head would split with shouting, he gave over 
the attempt, and busied himself and his men with pick- 
ing off" the Iroquois along their ramparts. 

The attack lasted three hours, when the assailants fell 
back to their fortified camp, with seventeen warriors 
wounded. Champlain, too, had received an arrow in 
his knee and another in his leg, which, for the time, 
disabled him. He 'was urgent, however, to renew the 
attack ; while the Hurons, crestfallen and disheartened, 
refused to move from their camp unless the five hun- 
dred allies, for some time expected, should appear. 



gJQ THE GREAT WAR-Px\TlTY, [1615. 

They waited five days in vain, beguiling the interval 
with frequent skirmishes, in which they were always 
worsted ; then began hastily to retreat in confused files 
along the sombre forest-pathways, while the Iroquois, 
sallying from their stronghold, showered arrows on 
their flanks and rear. Their wounded, Champlain 
among the rest, had been packed in baskets for trans- 
portation, each borne on the back of a strong warrior, 
" bundled in a heap," says Champlain, " doubled and 
strapped together after such a feshion that one could 
move no more than an infant in swaddling-clothes. 
.... I lost all patience, and as soon as I could bear 
my weight I got out of this prison, or to speak plainly, 
out of Hell." 1 

At length the dismal march was ended. They reached 
the spot where their canoes were hidden, found them 
untouched, embarked, and recrossed to the northern 
shore of Lake Ontario. The Hurons had promised 
Champlain an escort to Quebec; but as the chiefs had 
little power in peace or war, beyond that of persuasion, 
each warrior found good reasons for refusing to go or 
lend his canoe. Champlain, too, had lost prestige. 
The " man with the iron breast " had proved not insep- 
arably wedded to victory ; and though the fault was 
their own, yet not the less was the lustre of their hero 
tarnished. There was no alternative. He must winter 
with the Hurons. The great war-party broke into 
fragments, each band betaking itself to its hunting- 

^ Champlain. (1G27,) 46. In the edition of 1632 there are some omis- 
eions and verbal changes in this part of the narrative. 



1615.1 tTIENNE BRULfi. 



377 



ground. A chief named Durantal, or Daroutal,^ offered 
Champlain the shelter of his lodge, and he was fain to 
accept it. 

And now to pause for a moment and trace the foot- 
steps of Etienue Brule on his hazardous mission to the 
five hundred allies. Three years passed before Cham- 
plain saw him. It was in the summer of 161S, that, 
reaching the Saut St. Louis, he there found the inter- 
preter, his hands and his swarthy face marked with dire 
traces of the ordeal he had passed. Brule then told 
him his story. 

He had set forth, as already mentioned, with twelve 
Indians, to hasten the march of the allies, who were to 
join the Hurons before the hostile town. Crossing 
Lake Ontario, the party pushed onward with all speed, 
avoiding trails, threading the thickest forests and dark- 
est swamps, for it was the land of their arch-enemies, 
the fierce and watchful Senecas. They were well ad- 
vanced on their way when they saw a small party of 
these Iroquois crossing a meadow, set upon them, sur- 
prised them, killed four, and took two prisoners. They 
led them to Carantouan, the place of their destination, 
a palisaded town with a population of eight hwidred 
warriors, or about four thousand souls. The dwellings 
and defences were like those of the Hurons; and there 
can be little doubt that the Carantouans were the Eries, 
or a subdivision of that nation. They were welcomed 
with feasts, dances, and an uproar of rejoicing. The 

1 Champlain, with his usual carelessness, calls him by either name ini 
differently. 

32* 



3^8 THE GREAT WAR-PARTY. [1616. 

five hundred warriors prepared to depart, but, engrossed 
by the general festivity, they prepared so slowly, that, 
though the hostile town was but three days distant, they 
found on reaching it that the besiegers were gone. Brule 
now returned with them to Carantouan, and, with enter- 
prise worthy of his commander, spent the winter in a 
tour of exploration. Descending a river, evidently the 
Susquehanna, he followed it to its junction with the sea, 
through territories of populous tribes, at war the one with 
the other. When, in the spring, he returned to Car- 
antouan, five or six of the Indians offered to guide him 
towards his countrymen. Less fortunate than before, he 
encountered oii the way a band of Iroquois, who, rush- 
ing upon the party, scattered them through the woods. 
Brule ran like the rest. The cries of pursuers and pur- 
sued died away in the distance. The forest was still 
around him. He was lost in the shady labyrinth. For 
three or four days he wandered, helpless and famished, 
till at length he found an Indian foot-path, and, choosing 
between starvation and the Iroquois, desperately followed 
it to throw himself on their mercy. He soon saw three 
Indians in the distance, laden with fish newly caught, and 
called. to them in the Huron tongue, which was radically 
similar to that of the Iroquois. They stood amazed, 
then turned to fly; but Brule, gaunt with famine, flung 
down his weapons in token of amity. They now drew 
near, listened to the story of his distress, lighted their 
pipes, and smoked with him ; then guided him to their 
village, and gave him food. A crowd gathered about 
him. " Whence do vou come ? Are vou not one ot 



1616. 1 £TIENNE BRULfi. ^J^ 

the Frenchmen, the men of iron, who make war on 
us J 

Brule answered that he was of a nation better than 
the French and fast friends of the Iroquois. 

His captors, incredulous, tied him to a tree, tore out 
his beard by handfuls, and burned him with firebrands, 
while their chief vainly interposed in his behalf. He 
was a good Catholic, and wore an Agnus Dei at his 
breast. One of his torturers asked what it was, and 
thrust out his hand to take it. 

" If you touch it," exclaimed Brule, " you and all 
your race will die." 

The Indian persisted. The day was hot, and one of 
those thunder-gusts which often succeed the fierce heats 
of an American midsummer was rising against the sky. 
Brule |)ointed to the inky clouds as tokens of the anger 
of his God. The storm broke, and, as the celestial ar- 
tillery boomed over their darkening forests, the Iroquois 
were stricken with a superstitious terror. All fled from 
the spot, leaving their victim still bound fast, until the 
chief who had endeavored to protect him returned, cut 
the cords, and leading him to his lodge dressed his 
wounds. Thenceforth there was neither dance nor feast 
to which Brule was not invited; and when he wished to 
return to his countrymen, a party of Iroquois guided 
hin» four days on his way. He reached the friendly 
Hurons in safety, and joined them on their yearly de- 
scent to meet the French traders at Montreal.^ 

^ The story of Etienne Brule, whose name may possibly allude to the 
fierv ordeal through which he had passed, is in Cliamplain's narrative of 



380 THE GREAT WAR-PARTY. [1015 

Brule's adventures find in some points their counter- 
part in those of his commander on the winter liunting- 
grounds of his Huron allies. As we turn the ancient, 
worm-eaten page which preserves the simple record of 
his fortunes, a wild and dreary scene rises before the 
mind : a chill November air, a murky sky, a cold lake, 
bare and shivering- forests, the earth strewn with crisp, 
brown leaves, and, by the water-side, the bark sheds 
and smoking camp-fires of a band of Indian hunters. 
Champlain was of the party. There was ample argu- 
ment for his gun, for the morning was vocal with the 
clamor of wild-fowl, and his evening meal was enliv- 
ened by the rueful music of the wolves. It was a lake 
north or northwest of the site of Kingston. On the 
borders of a neighboring river, twenty-five of the In- 
dians had been busied ten days in preparing for their 
annual deer-hunt. They planted posts interlaced with 
boughs in two straight converging lines, each extending 
more than half a mile through forests and swamps. At 
the angle where they met was made a strong enclosure 
like a pound. At dawn of day the hunters spread 
themselves through the woods, and advanced with shouts 
and clattering of sticks, driving the deer before them 

his voyage of 1618. It will be found in the edition of 1627, but is omitted 
in the condensed edition of 1632. 

Brule met a lamentable fate. In 1632 he was treacherously murdered 
by Hurons at one of tlieir villages near Penetanguishine. Several years 
after, when the Huron country was ravaged and half depopulated by an 
epidemic, the Indians believed that it was caused by the French in re- 
venge for his death, and a renowned sorcerer averred that he had seen a 
sister of the murdered man flying over their country, breathing forth 
pestilence and death. Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 34 ; Brebeuf, Relation des 
Hurons, 1635, 28; 1637, 160, 167, (Quebec, 1858). 



1615.] CHAMPLAIN LOST IN THE WOODS. ggl 

into the^enclosure, where others lay in wait to despatch 
them with arrows and spears. 

Champlain was in the woods with the rest, when he 
.saw a bird, apparently a red-headed woodpecker, whose 
novel appearance greatly excited his astonishment ; and, 
gun in hand, he set forth in pursuit. Tlie bird, flitting 
from tree to tree, lured him deeper and deeper yet 
into the forest ; then took wing and vanished. The 
disappointed sportsman essayed to retrace his steps. 
But whither to turn 1 The day was clouded, and he 
had left his pocket-compass at the camp. The forest 
closed around him, trees mingled with trees in limit- 
less confusion. Bewildered and lost, he wandered all 
day, and at night slept fasting at the foot of a great 
tree. Awaking, he wandered on till afternoon, when 
beneath him a sullen pond lay glimmering, deep set 
among the shadowing pines. There were water-fowl 
along its brink, some of which he shot, and for the first 
time found food to allay his hunger. He kindled afire, 
cooked his game, and, exhausted, blanketless, drenched 
by a cold rain, invoked his patron saint, and again lay 
down to sleep. Another day of blind and weary wan- 
dering succeeded, and another night of exhaustion. Ho 
had found paths in the wilderness, but they were not 
made by human feet. Once more aroused from his 
shivering repose, he journeyed on till he heard the tink- 
ling of a little brook from the shaggy depths of a ra 
vine, and, looking down on this wild nursling of the 
wilderness, bethought him of following its guidance, in 
hope that it might lead him to the river where the hunt- 



332 THE GEEAT WAR-PAETY. [1615. 

ers were now encamped. With toilsome steps l»e traced 
the infant stream, now lost beneath the decaying masses 
of fallen trunks or the impervious intricacies of matted 
" windfalls," now stealing through swampy thickets or 
gurgling in the shade of rocks, till it entered at length, 
not into the river, but into a small lake. Circling 
around the brink, he found the point where, gliding 
among clammy roots of alders, the brook ran out and 
resumed its course. And now, listening in the dead 
stillness of the woods, a dull, hoarse sound rose upon 
his ear. He went forward, listened again, and could 
plainly hear the plunge of waters. There was broad 
light before him, and, thrusting himself through the en- 
tanglement of bushes, he stood on the edge of a meadow. 
Wild animals were here of various kinds ; some skulking 
in the bordering thickets, some browsing on the dry and 
matted grass. On his right rolled the river, wide and 
turbulent, and along its bank he saw the portage-path 
by which the Indians passed the neighboring rapids. 
He gazed about him. The rocky hills seemed familiar 
to his eye. A clue was found at last; and, kindling his 
evening fire, with grateful heart he broke a long fast on 
the game he had killed. With the break of day, be 
descended at his ease along the bank, and soon descried 
the smoke of the Indian fires slowly curling in the lieavy 
morning air against the gray borders of the adjacent 
forest. Great was the joy on both sides. The anxious 
Indians had searched for him without ceasing ; and from 
that day forth his host, Durantal, would never suifer 
him to go into the forest alone. 



1616.1 WINTER JOURNEYING. ggS 

They were thirty-eight days encamped on this name- 
less river, and killed, in that time, a hundred and twenty 
deer. Hard frosts were needful to give them passage 
over the land of lakes and marshes that lay between 
them and the Huron towns. Therefore they lay wait- 
ing till the fourth of December ; when the frost came, 
bridged the lakes and streams, and made the oozy marsh 
as firm as granite. Snow followed, powdering the broad 
wastes with dreary white. Then they broke up their 
camp, packed their game on sledges or on their shoul- 
ders, tied on their snow-shoes, and set forth. Cham- 
plain could scarcely endure his load, though some of 
the Indians carried a weight fivefold greater. At 
night, they heard the cleaving ice uttering its strange 
groans of torment, and on the morrow there came a 
thaw. For four days they waded through slush and 
water up to their knees ; then came the shivering north- 
west wijid, and all was hard again. In nineteen days 
they reached the town of Cahiague, and, lounging 
around their smoky lodge-fires, the hunters forgot the 
hardships of the past. 

For Champlain there was no rest. A double mo- 
tive urged him, — discovery, and the strengthening of 
his colony by widening its circle of trade. First, he 
repaired to Carhagouha ; and here, in his hermitage, he 
found the friar, still praying, preaching, making cate- 
chisms, and struggling with the manifold difficulties 
of the Huron tongue. After spending several weeks 
together, they began their journeyings, and in three days 
reached the chief villasfe of the Nation of Tobacco, a 



384 ' THE GREAT WAR-PARTY [1616. 

powerful tribe akin to the Hurons, and soon to be in- 
corporated with them.^ After visiting seven of their 
towns, the travellers passed westward to those of the 
mysterious people whom Champlain calls the Cheveux 
Releves. and whom he commends for neatness and ing-e- 
nuit)^ no less than he condemns them for the nullity of 
their summer attire.^ Crowds escorted the stranoers 
from town to town, and their arrival was everywhere the 
signal of festivity. Champlain exchanged with his hosts 
pledges of perpetual amity, and urged them to come 
down with the Hurons to the yearly trade at Montreal ; 
while the friar, in broken Indian, expounded the Faith. 
Spring was now advancing, and Champlain, anxious 
for his colony, turned homeward, following that long 
circuit of Lake Huron and the Ottawa which Iroquois 
hostility made the only practicable route. Scarcely had 
he reached the lake of the Nipissings, and exacted 
from them a pledge to guide him to that delusive north- 
ern sea which never ceased to possess his thoughts, 
when evil news called him back in haste to the Huron 
towns. A band of those Algonquins who dwelt on the 
great island in the Ottawa had spent the winter en- 
camped near Cahiague, whose inhabitants made them a 
present of an Iroquois prisoner, with the friendly wish 
that they should enjoy the pleasure of torturing him. 
The Algonquins, on the contrary, fed, clothed, and 
adopted him. On this, the donors, in a rage, sent a 

1 The Dionondadies, Petuneux, or Nation of Tobacco, had till recently, 
Recording to Lalemant, been at war witli the Hurons. 
'^ See ante, p. 3G5 



161G.J RETURN TO QUEBEC. gg^ 

warrior to kill the Iroquois. He stabbed him, accord- 
ingly, in the midst of the Algonquin chiefs, who in re- 
quital riddled the murderer with arrows. Here was a 
casus belli involving most serious issues for the French, 
since the Algonquins, by their, position on the Ottawa, 
would cut off the Hurons and all their allies from 
coming down to trade. Already, a fight had taken 
place at Cahiague ; the principal Algonquin chief had 
been wounded, and his band forced to purchase safety 
by a heavy tribute of w^ampum.^ 

All eyes turned to Champlain as umpire of the quar 
rel. The great council - house w^as filled with Huron 
and Algonquin chiefs, smoking with that immobility of 
feature beneath which their race often hide a more than 
tiger-like ferocity. The umpire addressed the assembly, 
enlarged on the folly of falling to blows between them- 
selves when the common enemy stood ready to devour 
them both, extolled the advantages of the French trade 
and alliance, and, with zeal not wholly disinterested, 
urged them to shake hands like brothers. The friendly 
counsel was accepted ; gifts of wampum were tendered 
and accepted, the pipe of peace was smoked, the storm 
dispelled, and the commerce of New France rescued 
from a serious peril.^ 

Once more Champlain turned homeward, and with 

1 "Wampum was a sort of beads, of several colors, made originally by 
the Indians from tlie inner portion of certain shells, and afterwards by 
tlie French of porcelain and glass. It served a treble purpose, — that of 
currency, decoration, and record. Wrought into belts of various devices, 
each having its significance, it preserved the substance of treaties and 
compacts from generation to generation. 

2 Champlain, (1627,) 63-72. 

33 



386 THE GEE AT WAK-PAKTr. [1616. 

him went his Huron host, Durantah Le Caron had 
preceded him ; and, on the eleventh of July, the fellow- 
travellers met again in the embryo capital of Canada. 
The Indians had reported that Champlain was dead, 
and he was welcomed as one risen from the grave. 
The friars — they were all here — chanted lands in their 
chapel, with a solemn mass and thanksgiving. To the 
two travellers, fresh from the hardships of the wilder- 
ness, the hospitable board of Quebec, the kindly society 
of countrymen and friends, the adjacent gardens, — 
always to Champlain an object of especial interest, — 
seemed like the comforts and repose of homo. 

The chief Durantal found entertainment worthy of 
his high estate. The fort, the ship, the armor, the 
plumes, the cannon, the marvellous architecture of the 
houses and barracks, the splendors of the chapel, and 
above all the good cheer, outran the boldest excursion 
of his fancy; and he paddled back at last to his lodge 
in the woods, bewildered with admiring astonishment. 



CHAPTER XV. 

1616—1627. 

HOSTILE SECTS. RIVAL INTERESTS. 

QuEnEC. — Embarrassjients op Champlain. — Montmorency. — Ma- 
dame DE Champlain. — Disorders and Dangers of the Colony. — 
A New Monopoly. — The Due de Ventadouk. — Jesuits. — Catholics 
AND Heretics. — Richelieu. — The Hundred Associates. 

A.\D now a chang-e began in the life of Champlain. 
His forest rovings were over. The fire that had flashed 
tlie keen flame of daring adventure must now be sub- 
dued to the duller uses of practical labor. To battle 
with savages and the elements was doubtless more con- 
genial with his nature tiian to nurse a puny colony into 
growth and strengtFi ; yet to each task he gave himself 
with the same strong devotion. 

At Quebec the signs of growth were faint and few. 
By the water-side, beneath the cliff, still stood the so- 
called " habitation," built in haste eight years before ; 
near it were the warehouses of the traders, the tenement 
of the friars, and their rude little chapel. On the verge 
of the rock above, where now are seen the buttresses 
of the demolished Castle of St. Louis, Champlain built 
a fort, behind which were gardens, fields, and a few 
small buildings. A mile and a half distant, by the 
bank of the St. Charles, on the site of the present 
General Hospital, the RecoUets, a few years later, built 



HOSTILE SECTS. — RIVAL INTEKESTS. 11G16-24. 

a convent of stone. Quebec could scarcely be called a 
settlement. It was half trading-factory, half mission. 
Its permanent inmates did not exceed fifty or sixty per- 
sons, — fur-traders, friars, and two or three wretched 
families, who had no inducement and little wish to labor. 
The fort is facetiously represented as having two old 
w^omen for garrison, and a brace of hens for senti- 
nels.^ All was discord and disorder. Champlain was 
the nominal commander ; but the actual authority was 
with the merchants, who held, , excepting the friars, 
nearly every one in their pay. Each was jealous of the 
other, bat all were united in a common jealousy of 
Champlain. From a short-sighted view of self-interest, 
they sought to check the colonization which they were 
pledged to promote. The few families whom they 
brought over were forbidden to trade with the Indians, 
and compelled to sell the fruits of their labor to the 
agents of the company at a low, fixed price, receiving 
goods in return at an inordinate valuation. Some of 
the merchants were of Rouen, some of St. Malo ; some 
were Catholics, some were Huguenots. Hence unceas- 
ing bickerings. All exercise of the Reformed Relig- 
ion, on land or water, was prohibited within the limits 
of New France ; but the Huguenots set the prohibition 
at nought, roaring their heretical psalmody with such 
vigor from their ships in the river, that the unhallowed 
strains polluted the ears of the Indians on shore. The 
merchants of Rochelle, who had refused to join the 
company, carried on a bold, illicit traffic along the bor- 

1 Advis au Roy sur les Affaires de la Noucelle France, 7. 



(620.1 MADAME DE CHAMPLAIN. 



389 



ders of the St. Lawrence, eluding pursuit, or, if hard 
pressed, showing fight ; and this was a source of per- 
petual irritation to the incensed monopolists.^ 

Champlain, in his singularly trying position, displayed 
a mingled zeal and fortitude. He went every year to 
France, laboriug for the interests of the colony. To 
throw open the trade to all competitors was a measure 
beyond the wisdom of the times ; and he aimed only so 
to bind and regulate the monopoly as to make it sub- 
serve the generous purpose to which he had given him- 
self. The imprisonment of Conde was a source of fresh 
embarrassment ; but the young Duke de Montmorency 
assumed his place, purchasing from him the profitable 
lieutenancy of New France for eleven thousand crowns, 
and continuing Champlain in command. Champlain 
had succeeded in binding the company of merchants 
with new and more stringent engagements ; and, in the 
vain belief that these might not be wholly broken, he 
began to conceive fresh hopes for the colony. In this 
faith he embarked with his wife for Quebec in the spring 
of 1620; and, as the boat drew near the landing, the 
cannon welcomed her to the rock of her banishment. 
The buildiugs were falling to ruin ; rain entered on 
all sides ; the court-yard, says Champlain, was as squalid 
and dilapidated as a grange pillaged by soldiers. Ma- 
dame de Champlain was still very young. If the Ur- 
snline tradition is to be trusted, the Indians, amazed at 

1 Champlain, (1627,) (1632,) passim; Sagard, Hist, du Canada, passim f 
Le (^lerc, EtaUissement de la Foy, cc. IV.-VII. ; Advis an Roij sur lea 
Affaires de la Nouvelle France; D^cret de Prise de Corps d' Hubert, MS. • 
Pluinte de la Nouvelle France a la France sa Germaine, passim. 
33* 



SgO HOSTILE SECTS. — RIVAL INTERESTS. [161G-24. 

her beauty and touclied by her gentleness, would have 
worshipped her as a divinity. Her husband had mar- 
ried her at the age of twelve ; when, to his horror, he 
presently discovered that she was infected with the here- 
sies of her father, a disguised Huguenot. He addressed 
himself at once to her conversion, and his pious efforts 
were something- more than successful. Durino- the four 
years which she passed in Canada, her zeal, it is true, 
was chiefly exercised in admonishing Indian squaws 
and catechising their children ; but, on her return to 
France, nothing would content her but to become a nun. 
Champlain refused ; but, as she was childless, he at 
length consented to a virtual, though not formal, separa- 
tion. After his death she gained her wish, became an 
Ursuline nun, founded a convent of that order at Meaux, 
and died with a reputation almost saintly.-^ 

At Quebec, matters grew from bad to worse. The 
few emigrants, with no inducement to labor, fell into a 
lazy apathy, lounging about the tradings-houses, gam- 
ing, drinking when drink could be had, or roving into 
the woods on vasrabond huntino- excursions. The In- 
dians could not be trusted. In the year 1617 they 
had murdered two men near the end of the Island of 
Orleans. Terrified at what they had done, and incited 
perhaps by other causes, the Montagnais and their 
kindred bands mustered at Three Rivers to the number 
of eight h mdred, resolved to destroy the French. The 
secret was betrayed ; and the childish multitude, naked 

^ Extraits des Chroniques de I'Ordre des UrsuUnes, Journal de Quebec, 10 
Mars, 1855. 



1621.] A NEW MONOPOLY. ^^Qj 

and famishing, became suppliants to their intended 
victims for the means of life. The French, themselves 
at the point of starvation, could give little or nothing. 
An enemy, far more formidable, awaited them ; and 
now were seen the fruits of Champlain's intermeddling 
in Indian wars. In the summer of 1622, the Iroquois 
descended upon the settlement. A strong party of their 
warriors hovered about Quebec, but, still fearful of the 
fatal arquebuse, forbore to attack it, and assailed the 
Recollet convent on the St. Charles. The prudent 
friars had fortified themselves. While some prayed in 
the chapel, the rest, with their Indian converts, manned 
the walls. The Iroquois respected their redoubts and 
demi-lunes, and withdrew, after burning two Huron 
prisoners. 

Yielding at length to reiterated complaints, the 
Viceroy Montmorency suppressed the company of St. 
Malo and Rouen, and conferred the trade of New 
France, burdened with similar conditions, destined to 
be similarly broken, on two Huguenots, William and 
Emery de Caen.^ Tiie change was a signal for fresh 
disorders. The enraged monopolists refused to yield. 
The rival traders filled Quebec with their quarrels ; 
and the evil rose to such a pitch, that Champlain 
joined with the Recollets and the better -disposed 
among the colonists in sending one of the friars to 
lay their grievances before the King. The result 
was a temporary union of the two companies, together 

1 Lettre de I\Iontmorency a Champlain, 2 Fevrier, 1621, MS. ; Paris Docu- 
ments in archives of Massachusetts, I. 493. 



392 HOSTILE SECTS. —RIVAL INTERESTS. [1625 

with a variety of arrets and regulations, suited, it was 
thought, to restore tranquillity.^ 

A new change was at hand. Montmorency, tired 
of his viceroyalty, wliich gave him ceaseless annoy- 
ance, sold it to his nephew, the Due de Ventadour. 
It was no worldly motive which prompted this young- 
nobleman to assume the burden of fostering- the in- 
fancy of New France. He had retired from the 
court, and entered into holy orders. For trade and 
colonization he cared nothing. The conversion of 
infidels was his sole care. The Jesuits had the keep- 
ing of his conscience, and in his eyes they were the 
most fitting instruments for his purpose. The Recol- 
lets, it is true, had labored with an unflagging devotion. 
The six friars of their Order — for this was the number 
which the Calvinist Caen had bound himself to sup- 
port — had established five distinct missions, extending 
from Acadia to the borders of Lake Huron ; but the 
field was too vast for their powers. Ostensibly by a 
spontaneous movement of their own, but in reality, it is 
probable, under influences brought to bear on them from 
without, the Recollets applied for the assistance of the 
Jesuits, who, strong in " resources as in energy, would 
not be compelled to rest on the reluctant support of 
Huguenots. Three of their brotherhood, Charles Lale- 
mant, Enemond Masse, and Jean de Brebeuf, accord- 
ingly embarked ; and, fourteen years after Biard atid 
Masse had landed in Acadia, Canada beheld for the 

^ Le Roy a Champlain, 20 Mars, 1622 ; Champlain, (1632, Seconde Par- 
tie) ; Le Clerc, Etablissement de la Foy, c. VI. ; Sagard, Ilistoire da Co* 
nada, c. VII 



1026.] AREIVAL OF JESUITS. 393 

first time those whose names stand so prominent on her 
annals, — the mysterious followers of Loyola. Their 
reception was most inauspicious. Champlain was ab- 
sent. Caen would not lodge them in the fort ; the 
traders would not admit them to their houses. Noth- 
ing seemed left for them but to return as they came; 
when a boat, bearing several Recollets, approached the 
ship to proffer them the hospitalities of the convent on 
the St. Charles.-^ They accepted the proffer, and be- 
came guests of the charitable friars, who nevertheless 
entertained a lurking jealousy of these foimidable fel- 
low-laborers. The Jesuits soon unearthed and publicly 
burnt a hbel aoainst their Older belonping- to some of 
the traders. Their strength was soon increased. The 
Fatliers Noirot and De la None landed, with twenty 
laborers, and the Jesuits were no longer houseless.^ 
Brebeuf set forth for the arduous mission of the Hu- 
rons ; but, on arriving at Trois Rivieres, he learned 
that one of his Franciscan predecessors, Nicholas Viel, 
had recently been drowned by Indians of that tribe, 
in the rapid behind Montreal, known to this day as 
the Saut au Recollet. Less ambitious for martyrdom 
than he afterwards approved himself, he postponed 
his voyage to a more auspicious season. Li the fol- 

1 Le Clerc, EtaUissement de La Fotj, I. 310 ; Lakmant a Champlain, 28 
Juiilet, l^'Io, in Le Clerc, I. 313; Lalemant, Relation, 1G25, in Mercuri 
Francais, XIII. 

'■^ Lalemant, in a letter dated 1 August, 1626, says that at that time 
tliere were only forty -three Frenchmen at Quebec. The Jesuits em- 
ployed themselves in confessing tliem, preacliing two sermons a month, 
studj-ing tlie Indian languages, and cultivating tlie ground, as a prepa- 
iration for more arduous work. See Carayon, Premiere Mission, 117. 



394" HOSTILE SECTS. — RIVAL INTERESTS. [1623. 

lowing spring he renewed the attempt, in company 
with De la None and one of the friars. The Indians, 
however, refused to receive him into their canoes, 
alleging that his tall and portly frame would overset 
them ; and it was only by dint of many presents, that 
their pretended scruples could be conquered. Brebeuf 
embarked with his companions, and, after months of 
toil, reached the barbarous scene of his labors, his suf- 
ferings, and his death. 

Meanwhile the Viceroy had been deeply scandalized 
by the contumacious heresy of Emery de Caen, who 
not only assembled his Huguenot sailors at prayers, but 
forced Catholics to join them. He was ordered thence- 
forth to prohibit his crews from all praying and psalm- 
singing on the River St. Lawrence. The crews re- 
volted, and a compromise was made. It was agreed, 
that, for the present, they might pray, but not sing.-^ 
" A bad bargain," says the pious Champlain, " but we 
made the best of it we could. Caen, enraged at the 
Viceroy's reproofs, lost no opportunity to vent his 
spleen against the Jesuits, whom he cordially hated. 

Twenty years had passed since the founding of Que- 
bec, and still the colony could scarcely be said to exist 
but in the founder's brain. Those who should have 
been its support were engrossed by trade or propagan- 
dism. Champlain might look back on fruitless toils, 
hopes hopelessly deferred, a life spent seemingly in vain. 

^ " .... en fin, fut accorde qu'ils ne chanteroient point les Pseaumes, 
mais qu'ils s'assembleroient pour faire leur prieres." — Champlain, (1632, 
Seconde Partie,) 108. 



1628.] TRADING-POSTS. 395 

The population of Quebec had risen to about a hun- 
dred and five persons, men, women, and children. Of 
these, one or two families had now learned to support 
themselves from the products of the soil. The rest 
lived on supplies from France, All withered under the 
monopoly of the Caens.^ Champlain had long desired 
to rebuild the fort, which was weak and ruinous ; but 
the merchants would not grant the men and means 
which, by their charter, they were bound to furnish. 
At length, however, his urgency in part prevailed, and 
the work began to advance. At Cape Tourmente there 
was a small outpost for pasturing the cattle of the set- 
tlement. The chief trading-stations were Quebec, Trois 
Rivieres, the Rapids of St. Louis, and above all, Ta- 
doussac. Here the ships from France usually anchored, 
forwarding their cargoes to Quebec in boats or small 
craft, kept in readiness for the purpose. Here, amid 
the desolation, nestled the little chapel of the Recollet 
mission. Here, too, were the cabins of the traders; 
and, in the spring, a host of bark wigwams, with in- 
numerable canoes of savages, bringing the fruits of 
their winter hunt from the solitudes of the interior. In 
one year, the Caens and their associates brought from 
Canada twenty-two thousand beaver-skins, though the 
usual number did not exceed twelve or fifteen thou- 
sand.^ 

While infant Canada was 'thus struggling into a half- 

1 Adds an Roi/, passim ; Plainte de la Nouvelle France. 

2 Lalemant, Relation, 1625, in Mercure Frangais, XIII. The skins soli 
at a tjistole each. The Caens empIoyecP forty men and upwards in Can- 
ada, besides a liundred and fifty in tlieir ships. 



395 HOSTILE SECTS. — EIVAL INTERESTS. |1C30-60. 

Stifled being", the foundation of a common wealth, des- 
tined to a marvellous vigor of development, had been 
laid on the Rock of Plymouth. In their character, as 
in their destiny, the rivals were widely different ; yet, at 
the outset. New England was unfaithful to the principle 
of her existence. Seldom has religious tyranny as- 
sumed a form more o))pressive than among the Puritan 
exiles. New-England Protestantism appealed to I^ib- 
erty ; then closed the door against her. On a stock of 
freedom she grafted a scion of despotism ; ^ yet the vital 
juices of the root penetrated at last to the uttermost 
branches, and nourished them to an irrepressible strength 

1 In Massachusetts, none but church-members could vote or liold office. 
In otlier words, the deputies to tlie General Court were deputies of 
churches, and the Governor and Magistrates were church -members, 
elected by cliurch-members. Church and State were not united : tliey 
were identified. A majority of tlie people, including men of wealth, 
ability, and character, were deprived of the rights of freemen, because 
the}' were noc church-members. Wiien some of them petitioned the Gen- 
eral Court for redress, they were imprisoned and heavily fined as guilty 
of sedition. Tiieir sedition consisted in their proposing to appeal to Par- 
liament, though it was then composed of Puritans. See Paltrey, His- 
torij of Neiu EiH/tand, II. c. IV. 

The New -England Puritans were foes, not only of Episcopacy, but 
of Presbytery. But under their system of separate and independent 
churches, it was impossible to enforce the desired uniformity of doctrine. 
Therefore, while inveighing against English and Scottish Presbytery, 
they established a virtual Presbytery of their own. A distinction was 
made. The New-England Synoil could not coerce an erring church ; it 
could only advise and exhort. This was clearly insufficient, and, accord- 
ingly, in cases of lieresy and schism, the ciuil power icas invoked. That is 
to say, tlie churches in their ecclesiastical capacity consigned doctrinal 
offi^nders for punishment to the same churches acting in a civil capacity, 
while they professed an abomination of Presbytery because it endangered 
liberty of conscience. See A Platform of Clmrrh Discipline, gather'd out 
of the Word of God and agreed upon hi/ the Elders and Messengers of the 
Churches assembled in the Si/nod at Cambridge, in Neu) England, c. XVII 
§§8, 9. ■ " 



1626-27.] KICHELIEU Qi^-J 

and expansion. With New France it was otherwise. 
She was consistent to the last. Root, stem, and branch, 
she Avas the nurshng of authority. Deadly absolutism 
blighted her early and her later growth. Friars and 
Jesuits, a Ventadour and a Richelieu, shaj)ed her des- 
tinies. All that conflicted against advancing liberty, 
— the centralized power of the crown and the tiara, 
- — the ultramontane in religion, — the despotic in pol- 
icy, — found their fullest expression and most fatal 
exercise. Her records shine with glorious deeds, the 
self-devotion of heroes and of martyrs ; and the result 
of all is disorder, imbecility, ruin. 

The great champion of Absolutism, Richelieu, was 
now supreme in France. His thin frame, pale cheek, 
and cold, calm eye, concealed an inexorable will, and a 
mind of vast capacity, armed with all the resources of 
boldness and of craft. Under his potent agency, the 
royal power, in the weak hands of Louis the Thirteenth, 
waxed and strengthened daily, triumphing over the fac- 
tions of the court, the turbulence of the Huguenots, 
the ambitious independence of the nobles, and all the 
elements of anarchy which, since the death of Henry 
the Fourth, had risen into fresh life. VVith no friends 
and a thousand enemies, disliked and feared by the pit- 
iful King whom he served, making his tool by turns of 
every party and of every principle, he advanced by 
countless crooked paths towards his object, — the great- 
ness of France under a concentred and undivided au- 
thority. 

In the midst of more urgent cares, he addressed 

34 



ggS HOSTILE SECTS. — RIVAL INTERESTS. [1620-27 

himself to fostering the coinmercial and naval power. 
Montmorency then held the ancient charge of Admiral 
of France. Richelieu bought it, suppressed it, and, in 
its stead, constituted himself Grand Master and Super- 
intendent of Navigation and Commerce. In this new 
capacity, the mismanaged affairs of JN^ew France were 
not long concealed from him ; and he applied a prompt 
and powerful remedy. The privileges of the Caens 
were annulled. A company was formed, to consist of 
a hundred associates, and to be called the Company of 
New France. Richelieu himself w^as the head, and 
the Marechal Deffiat, with other men of rank, besides 
many merchants and burghers of condition, were mem- 
bers.^ The whole of New France, from Florida to the 
Arctic Circle, and from Newfoundland to the sources of 
the St. Lawrence and its tributary waters, was con- 
ferred on them forever, with the attributes of sovereign 
power. A perpetual monopoly of the fur - trade was 
granted them, with a monopoly of all other commerce 
within the limits of their government for fifteen years.^ 
The trade of the colony was declared free, for the same 
period, from all duties and imposts. Nobles, officers, 
and ecclesiastics, members of the Company, might en- 
gage in commercial pursuits without derogating from 
the privileges of their order. And, in evidence of his 
good-will, the King gave them two ships of war, armed 
and equipped. 

1 Noms, Surnoms, et Quditez des Associez de la Compagnie de la Nouvelle 
France, MS. 

2 The whale and the cod fishery were, however, to remain open 
to all. 



1627.] EXCLUSION OF HUGUENOTS. 399 

On tlieir part, the Company were bound to convey to 
New France, during- the next year, 1628, two or three 
hundred men of all trades, and before the year 16^8, to 
increase the number to four thousand ^ persons, of both 
sexes; to lodge and support them for three years; and, 
this time expired, to give them cleared lands for their 
maintenance. Every settler must be a Frenchman 
and a Catholic ; and for every new settlement at least 
three ecclesiastics must be provided. Thus was New 
France to be forever free from the taint of heresy. 
The stain of her infancy was to be wiped away. She 
was to be a land set apart ; a sheepfold of the faith- 
ful. The Huguenots, the only emigrating class in 
France, were forbidden to touch her shores ; and when 
at last the dragonnades expelled them, they carried their 
skill and industry to enrich foreign countries, and the 
British colonies in America. There is nothing im- 
probable in the supposition, that, had New France been 
thrown open to Huguenot emigration, Canada would 
never have been a British province, that the field of 
Anglo-American settlement would have been greatly 
narrowed, and that large portions of the United States 
would at this day have been occupied by a vigorous and 
expansive French population. 

A trading company was now feudal proprietor of all 
domains in North America within the claim of France. 

1 Charlevoix erroneously says sixteen thousand. Compare Acte pour 
I' Etahlissement de la Compagnie des Cent Associes, in Mercure Frangais, XIV. 
partifc II. 232 ; Edits et Ordonnances, I. 5. The act of establishment was 
originally published in a small duodecimo volume, which differs, though 
oot very essentially, from the copy in the Mercure. 



400 HOSTILE SliCTS. — RIVAL INTEEESTS. [1027. 

Fealty and homage, on its part, and, on the part of the 
crown, the appointment of supreme judicial officers, and 
the confirmation of the titles of dukes, marquises, counts, 
and barons, were the only reservations. The King 
heaped favors on the new corporation. Twelve of the 
hourgeois members were ennobled ; \vhile artisans and 
even manufacturers were tempted, by extraordinary 
privileges, to emigrate to the New World. The asso- 
ciates, of whom Champlain was one, entered upon their 
functions with a capital of three hundred thousand 



1 Articles et Conventions de Societe et Compagme, in Mercure Fran^i$, 
XIV. partie II. 250. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

1628, 1629. 
THE EXGLrlSH AT QUEBEC. 

Revolt of Eoche^le. — War with England. — The English on thk 
St. Lawrknce. — Bold Attitude of Champlain. — The French 
Squadron destroyed. — Famine. — Return of the English. — Que- 
bec SURRENDERED. — ANOTHER NaVAL BATTLE. — MiCHEL. — ChAM- 

PLAiN AT London. 

The first care of the new company was to succor 
Quebec, whose inmates were on the verge of starvation. 
Four armed vessels, with a fleet of transports commanded 
by Roquemont, one of the associates, sailed from Dieppe 
with colonists and supplies in April, 1628 ; but, nearly 
at the same time, another squadron, destined also for 
Quebec, was sailing from an English port. War had 
at length broken out in France. The Huguenot revolt 
had come to a head. Rochelle was in arms against the 
King ; and Richelieu, with his royal wand, was belea- 
guering it with the whole strength of the kingdom. 
Charles the First, of England, urged by the heated 
passions of Buckingham, had declared himself for the 
rebels, and sent a fleet to their aid. At home, Charles 
detested the. followers of Calvin as dangerous to his 
own authority ; abroad, he befriended them as dangerous 
to the authority of a rival. In France, Richelieu crushed 
Protestantism as being a curb to the House of Bour- 

34* 



4,0^ THE ENGLISH AT QUEBEC. [1628. 

bon ; in Germany, he nnrsed and strengthened it as a 
curb to the House of Austria. 

The attempts of Sir William Alexander to colonize 
Aciadia had of late turned attention in England towards 
the New World ; and, on the breaking out of the war, 
an enterprise was set on foot, under the auspices of that 
singular personage, to seize on the French possessions 
in North America. At its head was a subject of France, 
David Kirk, a Calvinist of Dieppe. With him were 
his brothers, Louis and Thomas Kirk; and many Hu- 
guenot refugees were among the crews. Having been 
expelled from New France as settlers, the persecuted 
sect were returning as enemies. One Captain Michel, 
who had been in the s(^rvice of the Caens, " a furious 
Calvinist," ^ is said to have instigated the attempt, act- 
ing, it is affirmed, under the influence of one of his for- 
mer employers. 

Meanwhile the famished tenants of Quebec were ea- 
gerly waiting the expected succor. Daily the}'' gazed 
beyond Point Levi and along the channels of Orleans, 
in the vain hope of seeing the approaching sails. At 
length, on the ninth of July, two men, worn with strug- 
gling through forests and over torrents, crossed the St. 
Charles and mounted the rock. They were from the 
outpost at Cape Tourmente, and brought news, that, 
according to the report of Indians, six large vessels lay 
in the harbor of Tadoussac.^ The friar Le Caron was at 
Quebec, and, with a brother Recollet, he set forth in a 

1 " Calviniste furieux." — Charlevoix, I. 171. 
" Champlain, (1632, Seconde Partie,) Ih'l 



1628.J KIRK SUMIMONS QUEBEC. 403 

canoe to gain further intelligence. As the two mission- 
ary scouts were paddling along the borders of the Island 
of Orleans, they met two canoes advancing in hot haste, 
manned by Indians, who with shouts and gestures 
warned them to turn back. The friars, however, waited 
till the canoes came np, when they, beheld a man lying 
disabled at the bottom of one of them, his moustaches 
burned by the flash of the musket wiiich had wounded 
him. He proved to be Foucher, who commanded at 
Cape Tourmente. On that morning, — such was the 
story of the fugitives, ^ — twenty men had landed at tliat 
post from a small fishing-vessel. Being to all appear- 
ance French, they were hospitably received ; but no 
sooner had they entered the houses than they began 
to pillage and burn all before them, killing the cattle, 
wounding the commandant, and making several pris- 
oners.^ 

The character of the fleet at Tadoussac was now suf- 
ficiently clear. (Quebec was incapable of defence. Oidy 
fifty pounds of gunpowder were left in the magazine ; 
and the fort, owing to the neglect and ill-will of the 
Caens, was so wretchedly constructed, that, a few days 
before, two towers of the main building- had fallen. 
Champlain, however, assigned to each man his post, 
and waited the result.^ On the next afternoon, a boat 
was seen issuing from behind the Point of Orleans and 
hovering hesitatingly about the mouth of the St. Charles. 
On being challenged, the men on board proved to be 
Basque fishermen, lately captured by the English, and 

1 Sagard, 919 2 iq July, 1G28. 



404" THE ENGLISH AT QUEBEC. [1628. 

now sent by Kirk unwilling messengers to Champlain. 
Climbing the steep pathway to the fort, they delivered 
their letter, — a summons, couched in terms of great 
courtesy, to surrender Quebec. Tliere was no hope but 
in courage. A bold front must supply the lack of bat- 
teries and ramparts ; and Champlain dismissed the 
Basques with a reply, in which, with equal courtesy, he 
expressed his determination to hold his position to the 
last.^ 

All now stood on the watch, hourly expecting the 
enemy ; when, instead of the hostile squadron, a small 
boat crept into sight, and one Desdames, with ten 
Frenchmen, landed at the storehouses. He brought 
stirring news. The French commander, Roquemont, 
had despatched him to tell Champlain that the ships of 
the Hundred Associates were ascending the St. Law- 
rence, with reinforcements and supplies of all kinds. 
But, on his way, Desdames had seen an ominous sight, 
— the English squadron standing under full sail out of 
Tadoussac, and steering downwards as if to intercept 
the advancing succor. He had only escaped them by 
dragging his boat up the beach, and hiding it ; and 
scarcely were they out of sight when the booming' of 
cannon told him that the fight was begun. 

Racked with suspense, the starving tenants of Quebec 
waited the result ; but they waited in vain. No white 
sail moved athwart the green solitudes of Orleans. 
Neither friend nor foe appeared ; and it was not till long 
afterward that Indians brought them the tidings that 

1 Sagard, 922; Champlain, (1632, Seconde Partie,) 157. 



1629.1 FAMINE. 



405 



Roquemont's crowded transports had been overpowered, 
and a]] the supphes destined to reheve their miseries 
sunk in the St. Lawrence or seized by the victorious 
English. Kirk, however, deceived by the bold attitude 
of Champlain, had been too discreet to attack Quebec, 
and after his victory employed himself in cruisino- for 
French fishing- vessels along the borders of the Gulf. 
Meanwhile, the suffering at Quebec increased daily. 
Somewhat less than a hundred men, women, and chil- 
dren were cooped up in the fort, subsisting on a meagre 
pittance of pease and Indian corn. The garden of the 
Heberts, the only thrifty settlers, was ransacked for 
every root or seed, that could afford nutriment. Months 
wore on, and, in the spring, the distress had risen to 
such a pitch that Champlain had wellnigh resolved to 
leave to the women, children, and sick, the little food 
that remained, and with the able-bodied men invade the 
Iroquois, seize one of their villages, fortify himself in 
it, and sustain his followers on the buried stores ;»f 
maize with which the strongholds of these provident 
savages were alvvays furnished. 

Seven ounces of pounded pease were now the daily 
food of each ; and, at the end of May, even this failed. 
Men, women, and children betook themselves to the 
woods, gathering acorns and grubbing up roots. Those 
of the plant called Solomon's seal were most in re- 
quest.^ Some joined the Hurons or the Algonquins; 
some wandered towards the Abenakis of Maine ; some 
descended in a boat to Gaspe, trusting to meet a French 

1 Sagard, 977 



4,06 THE ENGLISH AT QUEBEC. [1629. 

fishinff-vessel. There was scarcelv one who would not 
have hailed the English as deliverers. But the Eng- 
lish had sailed home with their hooty, and the season 
was so late that there was little prospect of their return. 
Forgotten alike by friends and foes, Quebec was on the 
verge of extinction. 

On the morning of the nineteenth of July, an In- 
dian, renowned as a fisher of eels, who had built his 
hut on the St. Charles, hard by the new dwelling of 
the Jesuits, came, with his usual imperturbability of 
visage, to Champlain. He had just discovered three 
ships sailing up the south channel of Orleans. Cham- 
plain was alone. All his followers were absent, fishing 
or searching for roots. At about ten o'clock his servant 
appeared with four small bags of roots, and the tidings 
that he had seen the three ships a league off, behind 
Point Levi. As man after man hastened in, Cham- 
plain ordered the starved and ragged band, sixteen in 
all,^ to their posts, whence, with hungry eyes, they 
watched the English vessels anchorino^ in the basin be- 
low, and a boat, with a white flag, moving towards the 
shore. A young oflficer landed with a summons to sur- 
render. The terms of capitulation were at length set- 
tled. The French were to be conveyed to their own 
country ; and each soldier was allowed to take with him 
furs to the value of twenty crowns. On this some 
murmuring rose, several of those who had gone to the 
Hurons having lately returned with peltry of no small 
value. Their complaints were vain ; and on the tvven- 

1 Champlain, (1632, Seconde Partie,) 267 



162y.l NAVAL FIGHT. 40y 

tieth of July, amid tlie roar of cannon from the sliios, 
Louis Kirk, the Admiral's brother, landed at the head of 
his soldiers, and j3lanted the cross of St. George where 
the followers of Wolfe again planted it a hundred and 
thirty years later. After inspecting the worthless fort, 
he repaired to the houses of the Recollets and Jesuits on 
the St. Charles. He treated the former with great cour- 
tesy, but displayed against the latter a violent aversion, 
expressing his regret that he could not have begun his 
operations by battering their house about their ears. 
The inhabitants had no cause to complain of him. He 
urged the widow and family of the settler Hebert, the 
patriarch, as he" has been styled, of New France, to re- 
main and enjoy the fruits of their industry under Eng- 
lish allegiance ; and, as beggary in France was the 
alternative, his offer was accepted. 

Champlain, bereft of liis command, grew restless, and 
begged to be sent to Tadoussac, where the Admiral, 
David Kirk, lay with his main squadron, having sent 
his brothers Louis and Thomas to seize Quebec. Ac- 
cordingly, Champlain, with the Jesuits, embarking with 
Thomas Kirk, descended the river. Off Mai Bay a 
strangle sail was seen. As she approached, she proved 
to be a French ship. In fact, she was on her way to 
Quebec with supplies, which, if earlier sent, would 
have saved the place. She had passed the Admiral's 
squadron in a fog ; but here her good fortune ceased. 
Tijomas Kirk bore down on her, and the cannonade 
began. The fight was hot and doubtful ; but at length 
the French struck, and Kirk sailed into Tadoussar 



4,08 THE ENGLISH AT QUEBEC. [1629. 

with his' prize. Here lay his brother, the Admiral, with 
five armed ships. Though born at Dieppe, he was 
Scotch ,on the father's side, and had been a wine- 
merchant at Bordeaux. His two voyages to Canada 
were private adventures ; and, though he had captured 
nineteen fishing-vessels, besides Roquemont's eighteen 
transports, and other prizes, the result had not answered 
his hopes. His mood, therefore, was far from benign, 
especially as he feared, that, owing to the declaration of 
peace, he would be forced to disgorge a part of his 
booty ; yet, excepting the Jesuits, he treated his cap- 
tives with courtesy, and often amused himself with 
shooting larks on shore in company with Champlain. 
The Huguenots, however, of whom there were many in 
the ships, showed an exceeding bitterness against the 
Catholic's. Chief among them was Michel, who had 
instigated and conducted the enterprise, the merchant- 
admiral being a very indifferent seaman. Michel, whose 
skill was great, held a high command and the title of 
Rear-Admiial. He was a man of a sensitive tempera- 
ment, easily piqued on the point of honor. His morbid 
and irritable nerves were wrought to the pitch of frenzy 
by the reproaches of treachery and perfidy with wliich 
the French prisoners assailed him, while, on the other 
hand, he was in a state of continual rage at the fiincied 
neglect and contumely of his English associates. He 
raved against Kirk, who, as he declared, treated him with 
an insupportable arrogance. " I have left my coun- 
irv," he exclaimed, " for the service of foreigners ; and 
they give me nothing but ingratitude and scorn." Hia 



1629.1 MICHEL AND THE JESUITS. 



409 



fevered mind, acting- on his diseased body, often excited 
him to transports of fury, in which he cursed indiscrim- 
inately the people of St. Malo, against whom he had a 
grudge, and the Jesuits, whom he detested. On one 
occasion, Kirk was conversing with the latter. 

" Gentlemen," he said, " your business in Canada 
was to enjoy what belonged to M. de Caen, whom you 
dispossessed." 

" Pardon me, Sir," answered Brebeuf, " we came 
purely for the glory of God, and exposed ourselves to 
every kind of danger to convert the Indians." 

Here Michel broke in : "Ay. ay, convert the In- 
dians ! You mean, convert the beaver! " 

" That is false ! " retorted Brebeuf. 

Michel raised his fist, exclfiiming, " But for the re- 
spect I owe the General, I would strike you for giving 
me the He." 

Brebeuf, a man of powerful frame and vehement 
passions, nevertheless regained his practised self-com- 
mand, and replied: "You must excuse me. I did not 
mean to give you the lie. I should be very sorry to 
do so. The words I used are those we use in the 
schools when a doubtful questioH is advanced, and they 
mean no offence. Therefore I ask you to pardon me." 

Despite the apology, Michel's frenzied brain harped 
on the presumed insult, and he raved about it without 
ceasing. 

" Bon Dieu !" said Champlain, "you swear well for 
a Reformer ! " 

" I know it," returned Michel; "I should be content 

35 



4,10 THE ENGLISH AT QUEBEC. [1629. 

if I had but struck that Jesuit who gave me tJie lie be- 
fore my General." 

At length, one of his transports of rage ended in a 
lethargy from which he never awoke. His funeral was 
conducted with a pomp suited to his rank ; and, amid 
discharges of cannon whose dreary roar was echoed 
from the yawning gulf of the Saguenay, his body was 
borne to its rest under the rocks of Tadoussac. Good 
Catholics and good Frenchmen saw in his fate the 
immediate finger of Providence. " I do not doubt 
that his soul is in perdition," remarks Champlain, 
who, however, had endeavored to befriend the unfortu- 
nate man during the access of his frenzy.^ 

Having finished their carousings, which were profuse, 
and their trade with the Indians, which was not lucra- 
tive, the English steered down the St. Lawrence. Kirk 
feared greatly a meeting with Razilly, a naval officer of 
distinction,'^ who was to have sailed from France with a 
strong force to succor Quebec; but, peace having been 
proclaimed, the expedition had been limited to two ships 
under Captain Daniel. Thus Kirk, wilfully ignoring 
the treaty of peace, was left to pursue his depredations 
unmolested. Daniel, however, though too weak to cope 
with hi in, achieved a signal exploit. On the island of 
Cape Breton, near the site of Louisburg, he found an 
English fort, built two months before, under the aus- 

1 Champlain, (1G32, Seconde Partie,) 256: "jenedonte point qu'elle.ne 
soit aitx Pilfers." The dialogue above is literally translated. The Jesu- 
its Le Jeune and Charlevoix tell the story with evident satisfaction. 

2 Claude de Razilly was one of three brothers, all distinguished in tha 
marine service. 



1629.1 NEW FRANCE RECLAIMED. ^H 

pices, doubtless, of Sir William Alexander. Daniel, re- 
garding it as a bold encroachment on French territory, 
stormed it at the head of his pikemen, entered sword in 
hand, and took it with all its defenders.^ 

Meanwhile, Kirk with his prisoners was crossing the 
Atlantic. His squadron at length reached Plymouth, 
whence Champlain set forth for London. Here he had 
an interview with the French ambassador, who, at his 
instance, gained from the King a promise, that, in pur- 
suance of the terms of the treaty concluded in the pre- 
vious April, New France should be restored to the 
French crown .^ 

1 Relation du Voyage fait par le Capitaine Daniel; Champlain, (1632, 
Seconde Partie,) 271. 

2 Besides Cliamplain, Sagard, and Du Creux, consult, on this period, 
Extrait concermint ce qui s' est passe dans I'Acadie et le Canada en 1627 et 1628 
tire'd'iin re'juete da Cheva/itr Louis Kiik, in I\Ie'inoires des Commissi! ires, II. 
275 ; Litem contiuentes Promissionem I\e;;is ad tradendnm, etc., iu Hazard, 
I. 314; Traile de Paix fait a Sme, Ibid. 319; Bhjlemens entre Irs /ioi/s de 
France el d'Angleterre, in Mercure Frangais, XVIII. 39 ; Ilushwortli, II 
24. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

1632 — 1635. 

DEATH OF CHAMPLAIN. 

^E\v France rest jued to the French Chown. — Zeal of CiTAirPLAiu. 
— The English leave Quebec. — Return of Jesuits. — Aruival op 
CiiAJiPLAiN. — Daily Like at Quebec. — Propagandism. — Policy 
AND Religion. — Death of Champlain. 

OxN Monday, the fifth of July, 1632, Emery de Caen 
anchored before Quebec. He was commissioned by the 
French crown to reclaim the place from the English ; 
to hold, for one year, a monopoly of the fur-trade, as 
an indemnity for his losses in the war ; and, this time 
expired, to give place to the Hundred Associates of 
New France.^ 

By the convention of Suza, New France was to be 
restoi'ed to the French crown ; yet it had been matter 
of debate whether a fulfihnent of this enoao^ement was 
worth the demanding. That wilderness of woods and 
savages had been ruinous to nearly all connected with it. 
The Caens had suffered heavily. The Associates were 
on the verge of bankruptcy. These deserts were useless 
unless peopled ; and to people them would depopu'ate 
France. Thus argued the inexperienced reasoners of 
the time, judging from the wretched precedents of 

^ Articles accordes an Sr, de Caen, MS. ; Acte de Protestation dit Sr. dd 
Caen, MS. 



1G32.] OLD AND NEW FRANCE. 413 

Spanish and Portuguese colonization. The world had 
not as yet the example of an island kingdom, which, 
vitalized by a stable and regulated liberty, has peopled 
a continent and spread colonies over all the earth, gain- 
ing constantly new vigor with the matchless growth of 
its offspring. 

On the other hand, honor, it was urged, demanded 
that France should be reinstated in the land which she 
had discovered and explored. Should she, the centre 
of civilization, remain cooped up within her own narrow 
limits, while rivals and enemies were sharing the vast 
regions of the West 1 The commerce and fisheries of 
New France would in time become a school for French 
sailors. Mines even now might be discovered ; and the 
fur-trade, well conducted, could not but be a source of 
wealth. Disbanded soldiers and women from the streets 
might be shipped to Canada. Then New France would 
be peopled and old France purified. A power more po- 
tent than reason reinforced such arg^uments. Richelieu 
seems to have regarded it as an act of personal encroach- 
ment that the subjects of a foreign crown should seize 
on the domain of a company of which he was the head; 
and it could not be supposed, that, with power to eject 
them, the arrogant minister would suffer them to re- 
main in undisturbed possession. A spirit far purer, far 
more generous, \vas active in the same behalf. The 
character of Champlain belonged rather to the Middle 
Age than to the seventeenth century. Long toil and 
endurance had calmed the adventurous enthusiasm of 

his youth into a steadfast earnestness of purpose ; and 
35* 



^I4f DEATH OF CHAMPLAIN. [1632. 

he gave himself with a loyal zeal and devoted iiess to 
the profoundly mistaken principles which he had es- 
poused. In his mind, patriotism and religion were in- 
separably linked. France was the champion of Chris- 
tianity, and her honor, her greatness, were involved in 
her fidelity to this high function. Should she abandon 
to perdition the darkened nations among whom she had 
cast the first faint rays of hope ? Among the members 
of the Company were those who shared his zeal ; and 
though its capital was exhausted, and many of the mer- 
chants were withdrawing in despair, these enthusiasts 
formed a subordinate association, raised a new fund, 
and embarked on the venture afresh.^ 

England, then, unwillingly resigned her prize, and 
Caen was despatched to reclaim Quebec from the re- 
luctant hands of Thomas Kirk. The latter, obedient 
to an order from the King of England, struck his flag, 
embarked his followers, and abandoned the scene of his 
conquest. Caen landed with the Jesuits, Paul le 
Jeune and Anne de la None. They climbed the steep 
stair-way which led up the rock, and as they reached the 
top, the dilapidated fort lay on their left, while farther 
on was the massive cottage of the Heberts, surrounded 
with its vegetable-gardens, — the only thrifty spot amid 
a scene of neglect. But few Indians could be seen. 
True to their native instincts, they had, at first, left 
the defeated French and welcomed the conquerors. 
Their English partialities were, however, but short- 
lived. Their intrusion into houses and store-rooms, the 

^ £tat de la depense de la Compagnie de la Nouvdle France, MS 



1633 J CHAMPLAIN RESUMES COMMAND. 415 

Stench of their tobacco, and their importunate begging, 
thougli before borne patiently, were rewarded by tlie 
new-comers with oaths, and sometimes with blows. 
The Indians soon shunned Quebec, seldom approaching 
it except when drawn by necessity or a craving for 
brandy. This was now the case ; and several Algon- 
quin fiimilies, maddened with drink, were howling, 
screeching, and fighting within their bark lodges. The 
women were frenzied like the men. It was dangerous 
to approach the place unarmed.^ 

In the following spring, 1633, on the twenty-tbird 
of May, Champlain, commissioned anew by Richelieu, 
resumed command at Quebec in behalf of the Company.^ 
Father le Jeune, Superior of the mission, was wakened 
from his mornyjg sleep by the boom of the saluting can- 
non. Before he could sally forth, the convent-door was 
darkened by the stately form of his brother Jesuit, Bre- 
beuf, newly arrived ; and the Indians, who stood by, 
uttered ejaculations of astonishment at the raptures of 
their greeting. The father hastened to the fort, and 
arrived in time to see a file of musketeers and pike- 
men mounting the pathway of the cliff below, and the 
heretic Caen resigning the keys of the citadel into 
the Catholic hands of Champlain. Le Jeune's delight 
exudes in praises of one not always a theme of Jesuit 
eulogy, but on whom, in the hope of a continuance of 



^ Relation du Voyage fail a Canada pour la prise de possession du Fort de 
Quebec par les Francois, in Mercure Francois, XVIII. 

2 Voya'je de Chai iplain, in Mercure Frangais, XIX. ; Lettre de Caen a 
. . . , MS. 



4,16 DEATH OF CHAMPLAIN. [1633. 

his favors, no praise could now be ill bestowed. " I 
sometimes think that this great man [Richelieu,! who 
by his admirable wisdom and matchless conduct of af- 
fairs is so renowned on earth, is preparing for himself 
a dazzling crown of glory in Heaven by the care he 
evinces for the conversion of so many lost infidel souls 
in this savage land. I pray affectionately for Inm 
every day," etc.^ 

For Champlain, too, he has praises which, if more 
measured, are at least as sincere. Indeed, the Father 
Superior had the best reason to be pleased with the 
temporal head of the colony. In his youth, Champlain 
had fouoht on the side of that more liberal and national 
form of Romanism of which the Jesuits were the most 
emphatic antagonists. Now, as Le Jeune tells us, with 
evident contentment, he chose him, the Jesuit, as direc- 
tor of his conscience. In truth, there were none but 
Jesuits to confess and absolve him ; for the Recollets, 
virtually ejected, were seen no m(fi'e in Canada, and the 
followers of Loyola were sole masters of the field. 
The manly heart of the commandant, earnest, zealous, 
and direct, was seldom chary of its confidence, or apt 
to stand too warily on its guard in presence of a pro- 
found art mingled with a no less profound sincerity. 

A stranger visiting the fort of Quebec would have 
been astonished at its air of conventual decorum. 
Black Jesuits and scarfed officers mingled at Cham- 
plain's table. Tliere was little conversation, but, in its 
place, histories and the lives of saints were read aloud, as 

1 Le Jeune, Relation, 1633, 26, (Quebec, 1858). 



1633.] NEW FRANCE A MISSION. ^,l<y 

in a monastic refectory.^ Prayers, masses, and confes- 
sions followed each other with an edifying regnlarity, 
and the bell of the adjacent chapel, built by Champlain, 
rang morning, noon, and night. Godless soldiers 
caught the infection, and whipped themselves in pen- 
ance for their sius.^ Debauched artisans outdid each 
other in the fury of their contrition. Quebec was be- 
come a Mission. Indians gathered thither as of old, 
not from the baneful lure of brandy, for the traffic in it 
was no longer tolerated, but from the less pernicious at- 
tractions of gifts, kind words, and politic blandishments. 
To the vital principle of propagandism the commercial 
and the military character were subordinated; or, to speak 
more justly, trade, policy, and military power leaned on 
the missions as their main support, the grand instru- 
ment of their extension. The missions were to explore 
the interior ; the missions were to win over the savage 
hordes at once to Heaven and to France. Peaceful, 
benign, beneficent, were the weapons of this conquest. 
France aimed to subdue, not by the sword, but by the 
cross ; not to overwhelm and crush the nations she 
invaded, but to convert, to civilize, and embrace them 
amonij her children. 

And who were the instruments and the promoters of 
this proselytism, at once so devout and so politic ] Wlio 
can answer; who can trace out the crossing ajid mingling 
currents of wisdom and folly, ignorance and knowledge, 

1 Le Jeune, Relation, 1634, 2, (Quebec, 1858). Compare Du Creux, Hia- 
toria Canadensis, 156. 

2 Lo Jeune, Relation, 1635, 4, 5, (Paris, 1636). 



4,18 DEATH OF UlIAM.l'ii.AIN. [1635. 

truth and falsehood, weakness and force, the nohle and 
the base ; can analyze a systematized contradiction, and 
follow through its secret wheels, springs, and levers, a 
phenomenon of moral mechanism ? Who can define 
the Jesuit 1 The story of these missions, marvellous 
as a tale of chivalry or legends of the lives of saints, 
will be the theme of a separate work. For many years, 
it was the history of New France and of the wild com- 
munities of h«r desert empire. 

Two years passed. Tlie mission of the Hurons was 
established, and here the indomitable Brebeuf, with a 
band worthy of him, toiled amid miseries and perils as 
fearful as ever shook the constancy of man ; while 
Champlain at Quei)ec, in a life uneventful, yet harassing 
and laborious, was busied in the round of cares which 
his post involved. 

Christmas day, 1635, was a dark day in the annals 
of New France. In a chamber of the fort, breathless 
and cold, lay the hardy fiame vvliich war, the wilderness, 
and the sea had buffeted so long in vain. After two 
months and a half of illness, Champlain, at the age 
of sixty-eight, was dead. His last cares were for his 
colony and the succor of its suffering families. Jes- 
uits, officers, soldiers, traders, and the few settlers of 
Quebec followed his remains to the church ; Le Jeune 
pronounced his eulogy,^ and the feeble community built 
a tomb to his honor.'^ 

The colony coidd ill spare him. For twenty-seven 

1 Le Jeuni?, Relation, 1G36, 200, (Paris, 1637). 

2 Vimont, Relation, 1613,3, (Quebec, 1858 > 



1635.] mS CIIAUACTER. 4,1Q 

years lie had labored hard and ceaselessly for its wel- 
fare, sacrificing' fortune, repose, and domestic peace to a 
canse embraced with enthusiasm and pursued with in- 
trepid persistency. His character belonged partly to 
the past, ])artly to the present. Tiie preux chevalier, 
the crusader, the romance-loving explorer, the curious, 
knowledge-seeking traveller, the practical navigator, all 
claimed their share in him. His views, though far 
beyond those of the mean spirits around him, belonged 
to his age and his creed. He was less statesman than 
soldier. He leaned to the most direct and boldest 
policy, and one of his last acts was to petition Richelieu 
for men and munitions for repressing that standing* 
menace to the colony, the Iroquois.^ His dauntless 
courage was matched by an unwearied patience, a pa- 
tience proved by life-long vexations, and not wholly sub- 
dued even by the saintly follies of his wife. He is 
charged with credulity, from which few of his age 
were free, and which in all ages has been the foible 
of earnest and generous natures, too ardent to criticise, 
and too honorable to doubt the honor of otliers. Per- 
haps in his later years the heretic might like him 
more had the Jesuit liked him less. The adventurous 
explorer of Lake Huron, the bold invader of the Iro- 
quois, befits but indifferently the monastic sobrieties of 
the fort of Quebec and his sombre environment of 
priests. Yet Champlain was no formalist, nor was his 
an empty zeal. A soldier from his youth, in an age of 
unbridled license, his life had answered to his maxims; 

1 Lettre de Champlain nu Ministre, 15 Aout, 1635, MS. 



4.00 DEATH OF CHAMPLAIN. [1G35. 

and when a g-eneration had passed after his visit to the 
Hurons, their elders remembered with astonishment the 
continence of the great French war-chief.^ 

His books mark the man, — all for his theme and his 
purpose, nothing for himself. Crude in style, full of 
the superficial errors of carelessness and haste, rarely 
diffuse, often brief to a fault, they bear on every page 
the palpable impress of truth. 

With the life of the faithful soldier closes the open- 
ing" period of New France. Heroes of another stamp 
succeed ; and it remains to tell hereafter the storv of 
their devoted lives, their faults, their follies, aiid their 
virtues. 

1 Vimont, Relation, 1640, 146, (Paris, 1641). 



ERRATUM. 
For Brebeuf, road Brebeuf, wherever the name occurs. 



THB END. 



INDEX. 



ACADIE, 220. 

AlgDiKiiiiiis, 347. 

Alluiiu'ttcs, Isle (les, 347. 

Annapolis Harbor, 225. 

Antarctic France, 22. 

Anticosti, 20U. 

Apalaclien, 183, note. 

Apjialache, mountains of, G8; gold 
mines of, 54, 70. 

Arcinicga, Saiicho de, 93. 

Argall, Samuel, 27'.); attacks the 
Prencli at Mount Desert, 280 ; liis 
duplicity, 281 ; destroys French 
settlements in Aca(ha, 28G; his 
subsequent career, 2'J3. 

Arlae, Laudonniore's ensign, 56 ; 
releases Laudoiiniere, G4 ; his 
battle with the Tliiniagoa, 70. 

Aubert of Dieppe, 174. 

Aubry, Nicholas, 224, 227. 

Auilulfon, J. J., 51. 

Audusta, cliief near Port Royal, 
3G. 

Avacal, 183, note. 

Avilo's. — See Menendez. 

Ayllon, Vasquez de, his voyages, 
7. 

Baoalaos, 171, note, 199. 
■Bac<dms, Island of, 184. 



Barre, Nicholas, tases command at 
Charlesfort, 38. 

Bartram, John and William, 51, 
note. 

Basques, the, 170, 171 ; their quar- 
rel with I'ontgrave', 298. 

Bazares, Guido de las, 13. 

Beaupre, Vicomte de, 201, 

Biard, I'ierre, Jesuit, ordered to 
Acadia, 252; sails, 203; his In- 
dian studies, 208; liis visit to 
Asticou, 277; his equivocal con- 
duct, 287 ; In's voyage to Wale?, 
290; liis arrival at I'enibroke 
292 ; liis return to France, 293. 

Biencourt, son of I'outrincourt, 
255 ; appears at court, 257 ; hi 
voyage to the Kennebec, 266 
quarrels with the Jesuits, 271 
his interview witli Argall, 289 
remains in Acadia, 294, 295, note. 

Biiniiii, Island of, 6. 

Black Drink, 149. 

Bois-Lecomte, Ids voyage to Bra- 
zil, 23. 

Borgia, general of the Jesuits, IGO. 

Bounlet, Cai)tain, arrives in Flor- 
ida, 61. 

Bourdeiais, Francois, 149. 

Brazil, lluguenot colony in, 22. 
14211 



422 



INDEX. 



Brcbeuf, Jean de, Jesuit, lands at 
Quebec, 392; his dialogue with 
Michel, 409 ; returns, to Quebec, 
415 ; goes to the Hurons, 418. 

Bretons, tlie, 170, 171. 

Brion-Chabot, Philippe de, 181. 

Brule, Etienne, 868; his embassy 
to the Eries, 371, 377; reaches 
the Susquehanna, 378 ; captured 
by the Iroquois, 378 ; his death, 
380, note. 

Cabe<;a de Vaca, his journey 
across the continent, 8. 

Cabot, Sebastian, 170, 171, note. 

Caen, William and Emery de, 391, 
394, 395 ; reclaim Quebec, 414. 

Calos, King of, 69. 

Canada, its name and limits, 183, 
note, 184, note ; restored to France, 
412. 

Cancello, his mission and death, 13. 

Cannibalism among the Indians, 
330, note. 

Canoes, materials of their construc- 
tion, 319, note. 

Cape Ann, called St. Louis, 232. 

Cape Cod, called Cap Blanc, 232. 

Cap Rouge, River of, 201, 205. 

Carantouans, Indians, 877. 

Caroline, Eort, 48. — See Fort Car- 
oline. 

Cartier, Jacques, 181 ; his first voy- 
age, 181 ; his second voyage, 
183 ; reaches Quebec, 185 ; visits 
Hochelaga, 188 ; winters on the 
St. Charles, 193 ; returns to St. 
Malo, 196 ; his third voyage, 198, 
200 ; abandons New France, 202. 

Catherine de Medicis, 90. 

Cazenove, lieutenant of Gourgues, 
1.52. 155 



Challeux escapes from Fort Caro- 
line, 113, 117. 

Champdore, French pilot, 226. 

Champlain, Samuel de, 215; his 
West-India journal, 216; his first 
voyage to Canada, 219 ; embarks 
with De Monts, 222 ; explores 
the coast of New England, 231 ; 
explores it a second time, 239 ; 
again ascends the St. Lawrence, 
296, 297; founds Quebec, 302; 
suppresses a mutiny, 303; winters 
at Quebec, 307 ; joins a war- 
party, 308 ; ascends the Riche- 
lieu, 312; discovers Lake Cham- 
plain, 316 ; meets the Iroquois, 
319; his fight with them, 320; 
returns to France, 825; his ill- 
ness, 325 ; again sails for Canada, 
326 ; second battle with the Iro- 
quois, 327 ; makes a clearing at 
Montreal, 333; injured by the 
fall of his horse, 335; ascends 
the Ottawa, 340; returns to 
Montreal, 355; discovers Lake 
Nipissing, 364 ; discovers Lake 
Huron, 366 ; reaches the Huron 
Indians, 366 ; joins a Huron war- 
party, 370 ; discovers Lake Onta- 
rio, 372 ; enters New York, 872 ; 
attacks a Seneca town, 378 ; re- 
pulsed, 375; lost in the woods, 
381 ; visits the Tobacco Nation, 
383 ; umpire of Indian quarrels, 
385 ; his position at Quebec, 387 ; 
refuses to surrender it, 404 ; his 
capitulation with Kirk, 406 ; 
traits of his character, 413 ; re- 
sumes command at Quebec, 415 ; 
his death, 418; his character and 
writings, 419, 420. 

Champlain, Madame de. ;58!». 



INDEX. 



423 



Charles the Ninth, 139. 
Chcarlesliourg-Rov.al, 201. 
Charleslbrt, 35 ; abandonerl, 39. 
Chastes, Aymar de, 218, 220. 
Chaudiere, cataract of the, 343. 
Chauvin, Captain, 213, 218, 325. 
Chedotel, Norman pilot, 212. 
Chenonceau Hiver, 35. 
Chevalier, Captain, 247. 
Cheveux Relevc's, Indians, 365. 
Chicora, 34, note. 
Cliilaga. — See Iloclielaga. 
Cibola, 32. 
Cointac, 25. 

Coligny, Caspar de, 18, 29, 138. 
Colombo, Don Francisco, 216. 
Company of New France, 398. 
Conde', Prince of, 336. 
Conspiracy of French in Florida, 

60, 03. 
Cortereal, 179. 
Corterealis, Terra, 183, note. 
Cosette, Freneli captain, 103. 
Cotton, Father, urges Henry IV. 

to send Jesuits to Acadia, 251. 
Coudouagny, 187. 
Couexis, chief of the Savannah, 37. 
Cousin, French navigator, 169. 

Dale, Sir Thomas, 285. 

Daniel, Captain, takes a French 

fort, 410. 
Debre, Pierre, 146. 
Demons, Isles of, 173, 203. 
De Monts. — See Monts. 
Denis of Ilonfleur, 174. 
D'Entragues, Henrietta, 262. 
Desdames, 404. 
Des Prairies, figlits the Iroquois, 

329. 
Dolbeaii, Jean, Re'collet friar, 359 ; 

his missiouary experience, 360. 



Donnacona, 185, 196, 198. 

Du Pare, lieutenant of Champlain, 

332. 
Du Plessis, Pacifique, Recollet 

friar, 359. 
Durantal, Huron cliief, 377, 382, 

386. 
Du Tliet, Jesuit, 271 ; killed, 281. 
Duval, mutinies against Champlain. 

303. 

EspiRiTu Santo, Bay of, 9. 

Feknandina, 33. 

Florida, its original extent, its 

claimants, 14; Indians of, 49; 

scenery of, 51, 57. 
Fort Caroline, 48; famine at, 71; 

its defenceless condition, 105; 

taken by the Spaniards, 111 ; 

massacre at, 115; retaken by 

Gourgues, 154. 
Foucher, French captain, 403. 
Fountain of Youth, 6. 
Fourneaux, his treachery, 63 ; 

hanged, 67. 
France in the sixteenth century, 17. 
Francis the First, 175. 
Francis of Assisi, St., 358. 
Franciscans, the, 358. 
Fundy, Bay of, 225. 
Fur trade, 209. 

Gambie, Pierre, his adventures 

and death, 68. 
Ganabara, Huguenot colony at, 22. 
Garay, his voyages, 7. 
Genre, his treachery, 60. 
Gom-gues, Dominique de, 140 ; 

resolves to avenge the murdered 

French, 141; his speech, 143; 

lands in Florida, 144.; his coun- 



124 



INDEX. 



cil with the Indians, 145 ; attacks 
a Spanisli fort, 151, 152; takes 
Fort San Mateo, 155 ; hangs the 
Spaniards, 156 ; leaves Florida, 
15S; his death, 159. 

Grotaut, liis adventures, 68. 

Grotius, 160. 

Guercheville, Marquise de, her ad- 
venture with Henry IV., 258; 
her zeal for conversion, 261 ; her 
American domain, 270. 

Guise, Due de, 18. 

Uawkixs, Sir John, 79; relieves 
the French, 81. 

He'bert, first settler of Quebec, 
407, 414. 

Henry the Fourtli, 214 ; his assas- 
sination, 256 ; his passion for 
Madame de Guerclieville, 258. 

Hochelaga, River of, 183, note; 
town of, 186, 188; Indians of, 
189, note. 

Houcl, friend of Champlain, 357. 

Hostaqua, chief of Florida, 68. 

Huguenots in Brazil, 22. 

Huguenot party, cliaracter of, 29. 

Huron Indians, 309, 367. 

Huron, Lake, its discovery, 366. 

Indians of Florida, 49. — See Uu- 
ron ; AJijonquin ; Iroquois ; etc. 

Iroquois, the, 308 ; tlieir armor, 
321 ; routed by Champlain, 321 ; 
again routed, 329 ; attacked a 
third time by Champlain, 373; 
attack the Re'coUet convent, 391. 

jAMr.STOWN", 234. 
Jamet, Denis, Recollet friar, 359. 
Jesuits, 264 ; in Acadia, 265 ; quar- 
rel with Biencourt, 271 ; their 



domain in America, 270 ; plan of 
colonization, 273, 274 ; land at 
Quebec, 392; their position at 
Quebec, 416. 
Jordan, a river of Florida, 7, 34, 
note. 

Kirk, David, 402; defeats tho 

French fleet, 405. 
Kirk, Louis, 402; occupies QucbeC; 

407. 
Ivirk, Thomas, 402 ; takes a French 

ship, 407 ; yields up Quebec, 414. 

Labrador, 172, 183, note, 197. 
La Caille, Francois de, 54, 62, 129, 

133. 
La Chcre, banished by Albert, 88; 

killed by Ids companions, 40. 
La Grange, French captain, 104, 121. 
Lalemant, Charles, Jesuit, 392. 
La Roche, Marquis de, 210, 211, 

212. 
La Roche Ferriere, his adventures, 

68. 
La Routte, pilot of Champlain, 311. 
Laudonniore, Reno de, 42 ; robs 

Satouriona of his prisoners, 56; 

imprisoned by his followers, 68 ; 

removed from command, 83; es- 
capes from Fort Caroline, 112. 
Laudonnicre, Vale of, 47. 
Le Breton, Christophe, 138. 
Le Caron, Josepli, Re'collet friar, 

359 ; his missionary enterprise, 

361; ascends the Ottawa, 363; 

says mass among the llurons, 

368 ; at Quebec, 402. 
Le Jcune Paul, Jesuit, 414, 415. 
Le Moyne, artist of Laudonnicre, 

104 ; escapes from Fort Caroline, 

112, 114, 117. 



INDEX. 



425 



Lcry, Baron de, 174. 

Lc'ry, Jean de, Calvinist minister, 
24, note, 27. 

Lescarbot, Marc, 234 ; his masque- 
rade at Port Royal, 241 ; his win- 
ter employments, 242. 

Lorraine, Cardinal of, 18. 

Mallakd, Captain, 117. 

Marguerite, story of, 203. 

Marais, son-in-law of Pontgrave, 
308, 311. 

Masse, Fatlier,. 262; sails for Aca- 
dia, 263 ; his attempts at conver- 
sion, 2G7 ; lands at Quebec, 392. 

May, River of, 32. 

Medicine-lodge of the Algonquins, 
315. 

Mcdicis, Catherine de, 18. 

Memberton, chief of Acadia, 238, 
247, 254, 255, 267. 

Mendoza, cliaplain of Menendez, 
94-96, 107-109, 119, 126. 

Menendez, Pedro, de Avile's, his 
history and character, 86 ; peti- 
tions for the conquest of Florida, 
88; the scope of his plan, 92; 
attacks Ribaut's ships, 98 ; 
marches against Fort Caroline, 
107,- 108 ; his desperate position, 
110; takes Fort Caroline, 112; 
his piety, 114, 116; meets the 
shipwrecked French, 122; his 
cruelty and treachery, 124 ; mas- 
sacres the French, 127 ; meeting 
with Ribaut, 129; slaughters him 
and his followers, 131 ; his de- 
spatch to tiie King, 135; his 
plans, loG ; in favor at court, 
160; his death, 161. 

Menendez, Bartiiolomew, 119. 

Mercceur, Due de, 212. 



IMerrimac River, called La Riviere 
da Gas, 232. 

Michel, Captain, 402; his quarrel 
with Brc'beuf, 409; his death, 
410. 

Mollua, chief on the St. John's, 53 

Montagnais Indians, 299, 305. 

Montluc, Blaise de, 142. 

Montmorenci, Due de, 389. 

Montreal, visited by Cartier, 189; 
natives of, 189, note; Mountain 
of, 183. 

Monts, Pierre du Guast, Sieur de, 
220; sails for Acadia, 223; set- 
tles at St. Croix, 227 ; his plans 
of settlement on the St. Law- 
rence, 296, 325. 

Moscosa, 183, iiote. 

Mount Desert, 230; Saussaye ar- 
rives at, 275 ; French colony at, 
277 ; destroyed by Argall, 280. 

Narvaez, his expedition to Flor- 
ida, 7. 

Natel, Antoine, discloses a plan of 
nmtiny to Champlain, 803. 

New France, 183, note. 

Company of, 398. 

Newfoundland, fisheries of, 170 
172, 208. 

Nipissing Indians, 351., 

Nipissing Lake, 364. 

Normans, the, 170. 

Norumbega, or Noremboga, 183, 
tiote, 197, note, 230, 231, note. 

Nouc, Anne de la, Jesuit, 393, 414. 

Oathcaqua, chief of Florida, 69. 
Olotoraca, Indian warrior, 148, 160, 

153, 154. 
Orleans, Island of, 184, note. 
Ortelius, his map, 183, note. 



426 



INDEX. 



Ottawa Eiver, 341. 

Ottigny, Laudonniare's lieutenant, 

45 ; his voyage up tlie St. Jolin's, 

51 ; releases Laudonnicre, 64 ; 

attacks Potanou, 70; liis battle 

witli llie Thimagoa, 76. 
Ouade, chief of the Savannah, 37. 
Outina, cliief of the Thimagoa, 53, 

56, 70 ; made prisoner by Lau- 

donniere, 73. 

Panuco River, 12. 

Patino, officer of Menendez, 101. 

Paul the Fifth, Pope, 160. 

Pedro de Santander, his memorial 
to Philip II., 13, note. 

Penobscot River, 230. 

Pentagoet. — See Penobscot. 

Philip the Second, 17, 86, 138. 

Pierria, Albert de, left at Port 
Royal, 35. 

Pinzon, 169. 

Piracy of French in Florida. 61, 64. 

Place Royale, 333. 

Pommeraye, Charles de la, 183. 

Ponce de Leon, 6 ; his death, 7. 

Pontbviand, Claude de, 183. 

Pontgravc, merchant of St. Malo, 
213, 215, 219, 230; his son quar- 
rels with Poutrincourt, 265; his 
second voyage with Champlain, 
298. 

Popham, his colony on the Ken- 
nebec, 266. 

Port Royal, N.S., 226; French es- 
tablishment at, 242; winter em- 
ployments at, 243; abandoned, 
247. 

Port Royal, S.C., Ribaut's visit to, 
33. 

Potanou, King, 49 ; attacked by 
the French, 56 



Poutrincourt, Baron de, 221, 225, 
228, 251, 253; his attempts at 
conversion, 254; quarrels with 
the Jesuits, 265, 270; his death, 
294. 

Puritans, their despotic enactments, 
396, note. 

Quebec, Cartier's visit to, 185; 
origin of the name, 301, note; 
founded by Champlain, 302 ; win- 
ter at, 307; its condition, 387; 
famine at,' 405; taken by the 
English, 408 ; re-occupied by the 
French, 414 ; piety of its inmates 
416. 

Quentm, Jesuit, 274, 290. 

Recollets, the, 358. 

Ribaut, Jean, sails for Florida, 30 ; 
again sails for Florida, 82 ; sails 
from Fort Caroline, 105 ; wrecked, 
121 ; meets Menendez, 129 ; his 
death, 134. 

Ribaut, Jacques, 116, 118. 

Richelieu, Cardinal, 397 ; assumes 
control of New France, 398 ; his 
pohcy, 401, 413. 

Rio Janeiro, Huguenot colony at, 
22. 

Roberval, Viceroy of Canada, 197 ; 
sails for Canada, 202 ; his colony, 
205; his death, 207. 

Rochelle, disorders at, 235 ; revolt 
of, 401. 

Roquemont, French naval com- 
mander, 404. 

Roquette, his conspiracy, 60. 

Rossignol, 224. 

Sable Island, convicts on, 211 
Sagard, Franciscan friar, 223. 



INDEX. 



437 



Saguenay, country of, 183, note; 

river of, 184. 
San Jlateo, Fort. — See Fort Caro- 
line. 
San Agustin, its foundation, 101. 
San Pelayo, flag-ship of Menendez, 

93. 
Saa-rope, Island of, 70. 
Satouriona, cliief of the St. John's, 
44; visits Fort Caroline, 48 ; his 
war-party, 55 ; his meeting with 
Gourgues, 145. 

Saussaye sails for Acadia, 274 ; at- 
tacked by Argall, 280. 

Scalping, antiquity of the practice, 
322, note. 

Seloy, Indian chief of Florida, 101. 

Seneca Indians, 373. 

Siincoe, Lake, 371. 

Soissons, Comte de, lieutenant- 
general in New France, 336. 

Soli's de las Meras, 122. 

Soto, Hernando de, his expedition 
to Florida, 9 ; his death, 12. 

Spain in the sixteenth century, 16, 
86. 

Spainards of the sixteenth century, 
5. 

Stadacone. — See Quebec. 

St. Augustine. — See San Agustin. 

St. Charles River, 186. 

St. Croix, 225. 

St. Francis of Assisi, 358. 

St. John, River of, 226. 

St. John's River, 33, 45; scenery 
of, 51. 

St. John's Bluff, 45, 

St. Lawrence, Bay of, 183. 

St. Louis, rapids of, 334, 335, note. 

St. Malo, 181. 

St. Mary's Bay, 224. 

Sully, minister of Henry IV., 221. 



Tadoussac, 213, 299. 
Tessouat, Indian chief, 349. 
Thevet, Andre', 24, note, 173, 185 

note, 203, 205, note, 200. 
Thimagoa Indians of Florida, 52. 
Tobacco, nation of, 383. 
Trenchant, pilot of Laudonnjere, 

64, 66. 
Trent River, 371. 
Turnel, lieutenant of Argall, 291. 

Vasquez de Atllon, his voyages, 
7. 

Vasseur, his voyage up the St. 
John's, 53; attacks Potanou, 57. 

Ventadour, Due de, 392. 

Verdier, captain of Laudonniore, 
82. 

Verrazano, 175; his voyage to 
America, 176; his subsequent 
life, 180. 

Vicente, ofBcer of Menendez, 101. 

Viel, Nicolas, Re'coUet friar, 393. 

Vignan, Nicolas de, his pretended 
discovery, 339; his imposition 
exposed, 353. 

Villafaiie, his voyage to Florida, 14. 

Villaroel, Gonzalo de, 156, note. 

Villegagnon, Nicolas Durand de, 
his adventures, his character, I'J; 
his quarrels, 20; his scheme of 
Huguenot colonization, 21; his 
expedition to Brazil, 22; his des- 
potic rule, 22 ; his polemics, 23 ; 
his reception of the ministers, 
23 ; his reconversion to Roman- 
ism, 25; his tyranny, 26; his 
controversy with Calvin, 27. 



WAMPDjr, 385, i^ote. 



'■■^ 



..0 



va\\\ 



